


Fight for Q

by orphan_account



Series: 00Q [1]
Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Established Relationship, Torture, Whump!Q, kidnapped!Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:49:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q gets kidnapped whilst Bond is on an overseas mission and Bond has to rescue him upon his return. But can he find him in time? M for torture and swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Quick disclaimer, I own absolutely none of the characters, that's all up to Ian Fleming, MGM, and Sony Pictures Entertainment, so hats off to those guys!

Q opened his eyes and stretched down the length of the bed. The blinding light coming in from the window loudly declared it was morning, and Q groaned as he reached for his glasses. He sat up and put them on, stretching again, as consciousness fought its way back into his mind.

He then glared at the window.

"Wow. Fuck you, James."

Really? Opening the curtains before he left? That's a new low.

Q frowned as memories from the night before started coming back to him. They'd had a fight… What was it over? Something about Q getting more sleep while Bond was off on missions. Which was a stupid idea, because of course Q couldn't sleep knowing that his partner was getting shot at. Or stabbed. Or both. But he didn't tell Bond that, he only said that they worked well together, they made the most efficient team. It just happened that Q's presence in his earpiece kept him alive.

They hadn't sorted it out before they both fell asleep, keeping careful distance, something which they both hated but they hadn't wanted to antagonize the other. But something as vindictive as leaving the curtains open? That usually wasn't James's style…

Q swung his legs out from under the blanket and stood up, making his way to the kitchen. As he flicked on the kettle, though, his eyes caught the time on the microwave. He stared at it, disbelieving. 10:00.

"Shit." He ran back down to the bedroom and grabbed his phone, but there were no messages demanding to know why he was late to work? When was he coming? The government's fallen without you! That was strange.

It was then that he heard a shoe scuff from inside the bathroom. Q froze for a second, before quietly making his way over to the bedside table. Someone coughed and Q wrenched open the drawer and grabbed his gun, pointing it towards the bathroom door, hearing the 'click' as he released the safety catch.

"I know you're there. Come out, hands up!" he said, trying to sound confident, but his brain was working overtime. How could anyone get past his security? It was impossible. The bathroom door opened and a man came in to the bedroom, with his arms raised above his head. He stood at about 5' 10" and wore casual clothing, jeans and a T-shirt. But his shirt clung to his muscled torso and there was something about the way he walked that reminded Q of one of the agents at MI6.

"Who are you?" demanded Q. "How the hell did you get in here?"

To Q's complete surprise, the man laughed, a deep sound that scraped up his chest. He couldn't quite work out why, but Q found the sound unnerving.

"Stop that!" Q said, motioning with his gun, in case the intruder had already forgotten that there was a lethal weapon pointing at him. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

The man slowly and deliberately lowered his arms, until he was standing normally, keeping eye-contact with Q the whole time. Q just looked at him, appalled. "Hands up, I said!" But the man just laughed again, and took a step towards Q, and then another.

Q backed away. "If you come a step closer, I'm going to shoot. That's your warning!" The man ignored him. Q leveled the gun, inhaled, and pulled the trigger. An empty chamber in the gun clicked over. Q shot again. And again. "No," he said. This gun is always, always kept full. Q looked up to see the man a metre away. They looked at each other, sizing the other one up. Q had to admit, he didn't like his chances.

Slowly, as if enjoying every moment, the man reached into his back pocket of his jeans and bought out a pistol of his own, lining it up with Q's forehead. At the same time, a round of bullets dropped out of his hand, hitting the carpet between them.

"Please tell me your precious agent taught you more than to just point a gun at someone," he said. His voice was low and gravelly, Q didn't recognize it. "Because he certainly didn't teach you how to wake up if there's a stranger in your room."

Q forced himself to look past the gun and into the eyes of his trespasser.

"He'll find you," he said quietly. "He'll find you, because he can always find me."

The other man laughed once more.

"That depends if I leave something left for him to find," he said before pulling his arm back and smashing the gun against Q's head.

 


	2. Chapter Two

"007, come in."

Bond's breathing hitched for a moment, surprised to hear R's voice in his earpiece, rather that Q's.

"007?"

"Online. Where's Q?"

"He's taken a sick day. Where are you?"

"In the hotel…" He'd arrived about twenty minutes ago and was enjoying a glass of champagne from the mini-fridge. The view was stunning, the hotel's private beach just below him, but at the moment he didn't care.

"R, something's wrong."

"What's happened?" R immediately was on red alert, and he could hear a keyboard tapping away in the background, presumably someone hacking into CCTV.

"No, not here. Q never takes a sick day. I don't mean he's never sick, I mean he could easily literally work himself to death. Something's wrong."

R relaxed on the other side, and then got frustrated. For a double 0, Bond was getting side-tracked by a changed supervisor. It didn't exactly scream professionalism.

"007, please focus on the mission at hand," R said, coolly. "Q is fine. He called in and requested a day off. It isn't completely unheard of, even for Quartermasters."

"But this isn't him. He doesn't do this."

R had heard enough.

"007, are you sure you're concerned about his health, or is this more to do with the fact that he didn't come in for one of your missions?"

The question hung in the air. Bond hadn't thought about that. Well, that's a lie. Of course he had. They had their argument last night, and now Q is either taking his opinion on board and giving himself a break – incredibly unlikely in this circumstance – or he'd given James the cold shoulder. But that also seemed impossible. It just wasn't Q. They'd had fights before, but Q was always professional, pushing their private lives aside as soon as work was involved, just how it should be. So how had it changed now? Had Q pulled out? Were they over?

No. He couldn't think like that. He's on a mission. He'd sort out what was going on with Q when he got home. Maybe he had just taken a day off.

 _'And skipped your mission?_ ' a voice snuck into his head. No, this wasn't even a high danger mission. Q probably just figured this was the only that he could skip, with the knowledge that, for once, the injuries looked in Bond's favour, rather than against.

Satisfied with his conclusion, and slightly proud of himself for having convinced Q to take a day off, Bond focused his mind back on the mission, taking his instructions from R.

The first day went smoothly, acquiring the target and slowly making circles around him, getting in closer and closer, like a bird of prey circling their victim. Which was a pretty apt description really. Bond would find his victim then slowly, slowly pull the noose around their neck. They would eventually realize that they were going to be killed, but it was always too late. James Bond was very good at his job.

The first thing Bond did when he woke up the next morning was check his phone. There were no new messages. He buzzed his earpiece back to the MI6 base and R picked up on the other line.

"Morning, 007, nice sleep?"

"Q's not back?"

He could hear a sigh on the other end of the line.

"No, Q's not back. He called in again and asked for the rest of the week off. He's due to come back to work when you've returned."

Bond thought this through.

"And M let him?"

"M can recognize when someone's overworked."

"Hm," said Bond. It seemed Q really was taking his advice. Unless…

"R, you said he called in? He didn't email or text? You definitely heard him."

"His tenor tone was directly in my ear, 007, and the call came from his apartment. He's just looking after himself. I know, scary thought. Can we get back to the mission, please?"

Bond acquiesced and turned his thoughts back to the reason he was away from Q.

The rest his journey went successfully, and he didn't even get the chance to blow something up. It was almost upsetting, but he made an extra effort to be careful, so when Q got back to work he didn't have to start with a load of Bond-caused paperwork. The only thing that had him worried was that for his whole absence, a whole 5 days, Q hadn't texted, emailed, called, or replied to Bond's various means of contact. Bond put it down to sulking because he was at home, and so he was even more eager to return and settle things with his Quartermaster.

In fact, he was planning on postponing the debriefing from the mission until he'd checked in at the apartment, but he noticed Eve Moneypenny was standing at the airport arrivals lounge, ready to haul him back to base. He didn't go quietly, but he also knew that there was no getting around Eve. In the car on the way over, he asked if she had seen Q around HQ.

"No, he's been surprisingly good to his word. He hasn't even been logging on at home."

"Really?"

"No, don't get all suspicious, he still rings in, checking on things. He's just taking a break, and I thought it was really decent of M to give him one and Bond, would you please stop fidgeting? You'll see him in less than an hour. Honestly, you two…"

When they arrived at HQ Bond went straight to M's office and reported the mission, quickly and not filling in any more of the details than needed. M noticed he was in a rush, and only asked him the basics. As soon as they were done, Bond jumped out of the chair and turned to head down to Medical. When he was at the door, M spoke again.

"Oh, and Bond? I'm glad Q's taken a break. But tell him that we need him back, please? Starting tomorrow." Bond nodded and strode off down the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later he was hailing a taxi and telling the driver the address of his and Q's apartment. He looked out the window as the taxi drove through London, not taking anything in, anxious to get home.

When they finally reached the apartment, Bond took the stairs three at a time, and punched the numbers in the keypad to unlock the door and turn off the alarm.

As soon as the door opened, Bond knew something was wrong.

He took his gun out of his shoulder holster and surveyed the kitchen. Plates and mugs from days ago had been left, untouched, and no one had used the kettle recently, either. Bond slowly made his way through the apartment to the bedroom. Q's work clothes that he'd laid out the night before Bond left were still on the chair, and there were bullets on the ground near the bedside table, matching the gun that Bond made Q keep next to him. But they hadn't been fired, it was as if someone had dropped them. And next to them, on the floor…

"Shit."

Bond ran back to the front room, opened one of the spare laptops and typed in the password. As it loaded he opened his mobile and dialed MI6. He was put straight through to M's private line.

"007?"

"M. Q's been kidnapped. He hasn't been in the house for 5 days, and there's blood on the floor."

There was only a moment's silence.

"I'm sending people over now."

Bond hung up, his heart thundering. No. No no no no no. This couldn't be happening. Not to Q. Not to his Q… He quickly bought up the files of the CCTV cameras he and Q had hidden around the house, pulling up footage from 5 days beforehand. Bond watched himself leave the apartment, locking and alarming the door as he went. About half an hour later someone else entered. Although it was dark, the figure was clearly a well-muscled man. Who walked in through the front door. He must've gotten past the alarms… But Q had set them. It would take another genius to figure them out! He watched in horror and in fury as the man casually made their way through their home, and into the bedroom. There he stopped and looked at Q sleeping. He drew something out of his pocket, a piece of cloth, and slowly crept up to Q's side. Bond ground his teeth in fury as he saw the man place it under Q's nose. As he breathed in, Q's eyelids flickered and he collapsed further into his pillow. The man stood up and looked at Q again, then reached out and patted him on the head condescendingly. Bond gripped the table until his knuckles turned white.

The man now turned quietly to the bedside table and searched through the drawers until he found the gun. He carefully emptied it out and replaced the weapon, leaving the drawer exactly as he'd found it. He turned off Q's alarm clock in the same stealthy manner, and picked up Q's mobile. Then he made his way around to the window and drew back the curtains, letting the dissipating moonlight shine in. The man stalked out of the bedroom and returned to the kitchen, opening up a bag and pulling out a laptop, which he set up on the same table that Bond was sitting at now.

The man tapped away at it for a while and opened up a new program, filling the screen with a straight white line. He then opened Q's phone and plugged it into the laptop, typing through the codes as they came up, blocking his entry. It took about half an hour for him to get into the device, and even then he huffed as he found that each separate section was locked individually. Another 45 minutes later and he'd managed to open up the contacts, scrolling through until he found the number he was looking for.

It was now 6:30am, and light was just beginning to peak through the kitchen window. Bond leaned closer to the screen, trying to see the man's face, but he was turned away into the shadows. The man pressed the 'Call' button on Q's phone and put it on loudspeaker. R picked up the phone.

"Hello, Q? Are you almost here, we're about the try to contact 007."

The man was typing quickly, muffling his keyboard. As soon as he pressed the enter button, an exact replica of Q's own voice filled the room.

"R, I'm taking a sick day. Could you please take this mission?"

"Are you OK, Q? You never take sick days!"

The man was typing again. As soon as Q's voice was heard, the white line on the screen spiked and moved. It was a voice pattern.

"I'm fine, just a little run-down."

"But, Q, it's 007. You don't want to take the mission?"

"R, I'd appreciate it if you stopped being presumptuous, and just did what I told you, please."

"Fine, fine, no need to get snappy. I'll tell M, sleep well."

"Thank you," the man typed, and hung up the phone. The sun was now rising through the windows and the man leant back in the chair and stretched. He then packed the computer away and slid it under the couch and drew something else out of the bag: a gun. Bond heard his own breath catch and he glared at the man who dared take out a gun in his house. The man then moved back to the bedroom, and into the bathroom, with only a passing glace at Q.

He waited in the bathroom for 3 hours. Just sitting there, not even moving to get comfortable. It was at that moment Bond knew he was dealing with someone who had professional patience. Just like him.

At 10:00, Q woke up. He stretched and then looked at the open window, the sun now coming in without mercy.

"Fuck you, James." Somewhere in Bond's mind registered that if this wasn't such a serious and terrifying situation he would've laughed at that.

He watched as his partner got out of bed and stumbled towards the kitchen, before seeing the time and swearing. He rushed back to the bedroom and grabbed his phone, which had been neatly placed on the bedside table. It was then that Bond saw the man in the bathroom stand up, and deliberately scuff his shoe on the tiles. Q froze, and then leapt to the bedside table, pulling out the gun that Bond knew was empty. He heard Q call out, and the man allowed himself a small smile before coming out of the bathroom, with his hands in the air. His gun had been tucked into the back of his jeans, unseen by Q. Now the man was in the light, Bond could finally see his face clearly, he analysed the man, taking in everything about him: his facial features, previously broken nose, sturdy build, height, weight, age, stride length, but didn't recognize any of it. Whoever the man was, Bond had never seen him before.

The man laughed at Q's questioning, outright laughed. Bond could see why, the man was clearly the dominant one in the room, even if Q had a gun, it wasn't loaded. He had the upper hand in every way.

Bond snarled under his breath as the man stepped closer to Q, ignoring the warning being thrown across the room. He didn't even flinch as Q pulled the trigger.

"No." Bond watched in useless horror as the man walked around to Q, and bought his own gun out, aiming it squarely between Q's eyes. He also dropped Q's bullets on the floor between them.

"Please tell me your precious agent taught you more than to just point a gun at someone," he said, in a bass tone that Bond had never heard before. "Because he certainly didn't teach you how to wake up if there's a stranger in your room."

Bond saw the effort on Q's face as he forced himself to look his captor in the eye. When he spoke, it was so full of confidence, so trusting, Bond's heart twisted.

"He'll find you. He'll find you because he can always find me."

The man laughed in his face.

"That depends if I leave something left for him to find." He pulled his arm back and smashed the gun against Q's head, who dropped to the floor instantly.

Bond stared at the screen, watching as blood slowly started creeping onto the carpet, next to the bullets. The man picked Q up easily, and slung him over his shoulder, like he weighed nothing. Q was feather-light, Bond knew, but Bond was always so careful with him, careful not to break him, or hurt him in any way. And this man was treating him like he was nothing.

He dumped Q on the floor near the door and pulled out a mobile, dialing a number.

"Got him. Come on up."

A few minutes later another man, who Bond also hadn't seen before, was let into the room, carrying a large blanket. Together they rolled Q up and left him by the door. Then they both sat. And waited. Hours and hours passed. Q began coming round late in the afternoon, but the second man bent over him and pressed a needle into his arm, rendering him unconscious once more. It was at 2:30 in the morning when the first man's mobile went off, and he only looked at the screen for only a moment before motioning to his partner. Together they covered Q's face and the second man picked him up as unceremoniously as the first one had.

He opened the door with his other hand and walked out, leaving the first man in the apartment alone. He gathered up Q's mobile and laptop and looked around, checking if he'd left anything. It was then that he slowly walked over to the camera in the kitchen, looking straight into it, getting so close that the whole screen was taken up with his face.

"Well…" the man said. "Come get him, Bond."

And then he walked out the door.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know it says on the summary, but this scene does contain some torture, so please take heed.

Bond slammed his fist on the desk, making the minions rushing around Q-Unit jump.

"That's not good enough, R!"

"Bond!" A sharp voice cut across the room, coming from the doorway. Bond turned around to see M standing there, glaring daggers at him. "My office, now."

Bond strode out of Q-Unit and marched down the hall, not even turning around to talk to M until they were back in his office, and he had closed the door.

"M-"

"I don't want to hear it. They've been working for seventy hours straight, and they're not slowing down. They're doing everything they can. You yelling at them isn't going to make us find Q faster."

"Three days, M! Three whole days! That means it's eight days that no one in the whole world has seen him! And we're still no closer to finding out where he is!"

Bond paced around the room, unable to hold still, his mind in overdrive.

"He could be anywhere, they could have done anything to him by now. He could be dead! And you're just sitting there!"

M waited till Bond stopped to breathe.

"He's not dead."

Bond turned on the spot and looked M in the eye.

"How could you possibly be so sure?"

"If you actually start thinking then you'd be able to figure it out yourself, James!" He inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Q holds all the information someone needs to bring down anything, or anyone. You think that they're going to wait if they've got that from him? No way. They'd use it as soon as possible, and then they'd kill Q. But we're still online. England hasn't fallen. Q hasn't told them anything. Which means he's alive."

M could see Bond's thought process slowly start to return to normal working levels, something which it hadn't been at since he'd returned. Eventually Bond walked over to a chair and collapsed in it, holding his head in his hands. M stood up and walked over to his fridge, pouring them both a drink.

The rest of the footage proved to be absolutely useless. All it showed was the first man once again breaking into the apartment on the day of Bond's return, retrieving his laptop that he'd stashed under the couch. Q-Unit said that he'd been using it as a locater signal for the calls he made to HQ, so they could be traced back to the apartment. He'd used the voice technology from wherever he was hiding. There had been no way to trace it.

James Bond was at a loss. For once, he couldn't do a thing. There were no doors to storm down, no guns to fire, and no bad guys within range. But, there was also no Q to go back to, to annoy in his office, to share his home with. He'd been pacing around Q-Unit for days, sleeping in Q's office when he was forced to, jumping up at any sound that might mean that they'd found something. They hadn't.

He definitely wouldn't even have eaten if it hadn't been for Eve, who arrived three times a day holding a reheated meal, or some takeaway, and forced it down Bond's throat. Eating was a waste of time. Sleeping, too. Those were minutes, or dreaded hours, where he could be looking for Q.

M pushed the drink into his hand, and leaned against his desk.

"Ok, let's go over what we know."

Bond could repeat this conservation from memory.

"Whoever it is, is a computer genius. He not only got through our alarm, but into Q's phone. If your theory's correct, they haven't yet managed to get into Q's laptop. We know they're professionals. They don't move when they wait, and they can wait for hours. They've been specially trained from… somewhere. Their accent is generically British, or it's been trained that way."

M joined in.

"We know that they don't match any facial or voice recognition we have on file. We know that they must've gotten Q's voice code from somewhere, so we can presume they've been watching him for a while, or they know him from somewhere before his time at MI6. But they don't match anyone on Q's records."

"And we know that they want me."

M looked up sharply.

"We know that they're trying to bait you, Bond. That doesn't mean it's personal."

"Less of a random killing machine, more of a personal statement," Bond murmured.

"Sorry?" asked M.

"Nothing, sir. Thinking out loud… Although…"

Bond jumped out of his chair, rushing to the door.

"007! Where are you going?!" M shouted after him as he watched his best agent storm down the corridor. He looked back at Bond's full drink sitting on the table before reaching Eve through intercom.

"For God's sake, get someone to follow him."

Bond jumped into his car and slammed on the accelerator, racing back towards the apartment. Because it didn't make sense. Why try to get to Bond through Q if you weren't going to give them any leads?

But of course they couldn't send them to HQ, they'd be tracked before the whole message was received. So they would go through the only way that they knew they could get away with: the apartment.

Bond threw his car onto the curb, tyres squealing as they tried to find grip on the wet road. Bond was out of the car before it stopped moving and bolted up the stairs. He paused outside the door, but he couldn't hear anything from within.

He deactivated the door alarm and walked into the apartment, gun first. There was a new laptop on the kitchen table, plugged into the wall to keep the battery running. After a quick sweep of the apartment to ensure he was alone, Bond put the gun away and reached into a kitchen drawer, pulling out a pair of gloves that wouldn't leave fingerprints. He drew up a chair and opened the laptop. A video opened onto the screen. Bond got out his phone and pressed 'record', in case the video deleted itself after it was watched. Then he pressed play.

It was a dark, non-descript room. There wasn't even a window, and the only light was the red flash from the camera that was recording the scene. There was the click of footsteps and suddenly the whole room was thrown into a sharp light. It was a cell, somewhere. Concrete walls, and a concrete floor. But there was no bed, no sink, so it couldn't be a prison. In the middle of the cell, tied up and sitting on a chair, was Q.

His head hung down and his breathing was shallow and pained, Bond could see his shoulders wince at every breath. His hands were tied behind the back of the chair, and his ankles were tied together as well. Bond wordlessly put his hand on the screen, trying to touch his lover's face, to will him to safety.

Another figure entered the screen, the first man from the house. He was dressed in the same jeans, with a different coloured shirt. He set a laptop down in front of the chair, and Bond immediately recognized it as Q's.

"Open it," the man said, looking at Q.

"I can hardly open it when it's down there, can I?" said Q, raising his head. Bond stopped breathing. Q's face was swollen and red, and there was a deep gash across his forehead and down his cheek and blood matted his hair. They'd also taken away his glasses. Broken them probably.

The man stepped forward.

"Very well, then."

He reached out and grabbed the back of Q's chair and pulled the whole thing forward, sending Q down onto his knees, his hands still tied behind the chair, and his face smashed into the concrete.

Bond's hands started shaking.

"Open it!"

Q rolled himself sideways, moving himself and the whole chair, until he had his wounded cheek pressed to the ground. He sighed, almost happily, and Bond could imagine the cold concrete numbing the pain.

"Now!" The man's foot shot out and collected Q in the stomach. Q automatically tried to curl into a ball, but the chair stopped him.

"I think the concussion you've given me has impaired my memory. I can't seem to remember the password."

Bond couldn't believe it. He'd been beaten, tortured, for 8 days, and he was getting away from them with sarcasm. It was so… Q.

The man didn't think it was amusing.

"Get him up," he said to someone who was out of view of the camera.

The second man walked into frame and Bond recognized him as the same accomplice who helped abduct Q. He walked around the back of the chair and bent down, pulling something out of his pocket. 'Wire cutters?' thought Bond. He heard a snip and Q flinched. The second man then tossed the clippers aside and grabbed Q roughly by the upper arm, hauling him to his feet. Q bought his hands round to the front and massaged his fingers, trying to get some feeling into them. He had two deep lacerations around his wrists, where the wire had been tying him together. Blood dripped onto the floor.

The first man walked briskly up to Q and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him across to the nearest wall, and then shoved him into it.

"What's the password?" he growled.

Q shook his head.

"I'll never tell you."

The man pulled Q's head back by his hair.

"What is it?"

"No."

Q's head slammed into the wall. The man caught him as he fell and forced him to stand upright. It wasn't till then that Q noticed the camera.

"What's that for?" Concern flashed across his face, Bond hoped that he only saw it because he knew Q so well. If your captors saw worry, they knew they'd struck a nerve.

The man ignored him.

"Tell me!"

"Making a home movie are we, boys? I have to admit, I don't think I'm much of an actor but I'll give it a go."

His head slammed against the wall twice. This time, the man let him slide to the floor.

"The password, now!" The man was yelling, screaming at Q who was only centimetres away from him. Bond wondered how many time they'd asked that question, after they'd realized that no one could force their way into Q's computer.

Q mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"How many golf balls are on the moon?"

"He's gone mad," said the second man, looking at Q in disbelief.

Bond held on to the next words for dear life.

"It's two, isn't it? Although that never seems quite right, you'd think that it would be double that. After all, why bring only two if you're going to go all the way to the moon? It's such a long way to travel. And all in the same transport…"

"You've made him lose it! What's the boss going to do now?"

"Shut up! He's fine, just dazed! Tie him back up again!"

The second man walked over to Q, who'd been trying to sit up. He pushed him roughly to the ground again and pulled a coil of wire from another pocket.

"I think there should be fourteen golf balls on the moon…" Q said softly to himself.

"Be quiet will you!"

The second man dragged Q by the wrists and Bond felt his stomach twist as he watched the wire cut even deeper into Q's pale skin.

When Q was back on the chair, the two men walked out of frame.

"When was the last time he ate?"

"Four days ago," the other one answered.

"Good. Make sure he's not given anything at all. We'll see if starving him can loosen his tongue."

The next second the first man appeared in front of the camera again.

"He's waiting, Bond. You better not make him wait too long, or there really will be nothing left."

Q's voice called out softly from the chair.

"Time. The inevitability of time. Well, I'm not quite scrap yet."

"Shut up!" The second man threw something at Q, and it hit him on the shoulder. The wire cutters clattered to the floor and Bond saw the fabric of Q's shirt blossom with red.

And with that, the video ended.

Bond took a while to realize he wasn't breathing evenly, and he tried taking deep breaths, but his heart was racing, adrenaline pumping as his body begged him to face these men with nothing but his bare hands.

"Oh, Q," he said quietly, processing the video, and the meaning behind it all.

"Bond," he heard a voice behind him. In less than a second he jumped out of the chair and aimed his gun. Eve stood on the doorway, her eyes shining with tears.

"Bring it back to the headquarters. We'll see what Q-Unit can find."


	4. Chapter 4

M and R watched the clip in silence. M then played it again. Bond winced every time one of the men so much as looked at Q, and his stomach twisted nervously, but he made himself wait and watch.

At the end of the second time, M turned to Bond.

"Right."

For once, M's perfect mask was completely gone. Fury outlined every one of his features and Bond had to hurriedly remind himself that he wasn't the target of M's anger.

"You know something I don't, Bond. Talk."

"Obviously both Q and I know that we're prime targets for trouble, so we came up with a plan. A kind of code, to try and tell the other person where we are, without getting noticed."

"Has this got something to do with the golf balls?"

Bond nodded. "There are two golf balls on the moon, but Q says there should be four, meaning he travelled for four days. He also said that there was only one mode of transport, they thought he meant the rocket ship, but he was telling me- us, that he didn't switch modes of transport. Which is good, because if he did, it'd be a lot harder to find him."

"But if he travelled for four days, he could literally be anywhere," R pointed out. "If he went by car, he could be in Europe, or even Asia, boat could be Africa by now, and plane… Oh my God, he could even be in Australia. For crying out loud…"

M held up his hand, cutting her off.

"Keep talking, Bond."

"The bit at the end, about not being scrap yet. It was another reference. He was travelling by boat."

"That still gives us a pretty wide range," R grumbled, tapping away at her tablet already.

"One last thing, R. Q said he thought there should be fourteen golf balls on the moon. He was travelling North."

M cottoned on quickly. "With 'N' being the fourteenth letter of the alphabet, I presume."

"That's it."

"So," said R, summing things up. "We're looking at where he'd go if he traveled four days North in a boat…"

"He'll be on an island someone in either the Norwegian Sea, maybe the Greenland Sea, but there's no way they could've gotten to the Arctic," Bond said quickly.

"Ok, that narrows it down to about 100 islands."

"It has to be inhabited, or previously inhabited," M pointed out. "If they've got a cell with light, they must have electricity."

"Ok, 50 islands then," R said, crossing off islands on her tablet. "What else was in the video?"

"His T-shirt," Bond said. "The man was still wearing a T-shirt, the place has heating."

"Narrowing it down…" R said, still flicking screens across her tablet.

"The style of chair was made in the '80's.

"So post-war inhabitation, narrowing it down."

"The camera flashed red. Not green, when it was recording. It's a Delta brand."

"Ok, there's an island in the Northern part of the Norwegian Sea named Markusi, they had a bunch of Delta cameras shipped in a week ago. It was used as a base in the Second World War, but some residents stayed on, not wanting to return to their home countries. It's mostly abandoned now."

"Mostly?"

"Well… someone had to ship a load of cameras in…"

M pushed on the intercom.

"Eve, organize a full team to go to Markusi, leaving as soon as possible. R'll give you the details."

"Yes sir," came her reply.

R tapped a few more times on her tablet and then stood up.

"I'll get weapons assist online."

"Thanks, R."

She left the office.

"Bond, they mentioned a boss. This is a group with organization, geniuses, and a leader. I don't like this. You honestly have no idea who this could be?"

Bond looked him in the eye.

"If I did, they would already be dead."

M held Bond's gaze for a few moments.

"Go get ready, you'll be fronting this."

"Sir." But M had one more question.

"Bond, what Q said, about the inevitability of time… Was that another code?"

Bond thought for a moment.

"Yes sir. It was."

"What was that code for?"

Bond almost smiled.

"It was a code for me. Nothing about his position or his captors, I promise."

M almost looked like he was going to ask.

"Very well, then. Go get ready. Let's go get Q."

Bond walked out of the office and headed towards Q's office, where he kept a spare suit, thinking about the inevitability of time. One of the first things Q had said to him, back in the National Gallery in front of the painting with that bloody big ship. Yes. Q knew he was coming.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> It is debated whether there are two or three golf balls on the moon, but I'm just going with two, to suit the story.
> 
> 'Markusi' (the name of the island) is completely made up, it's not a real place, although I did do a Google search on it, and it turns out there's a branch of apartments in Croatia called 'Markusi Apartments', but the story's got nothing to do with them at all, I promise!
> 
> I think that's everything, so read on and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Bubbletrix
> 
> :)

Bond closed his eyes and tuned out the sounds around him, focusing on the movement of the boat. He, and ten other agents, were speeding through the waters north of England, heading towards Markusi. His mind went back to the heated discussion he had with M about how it was best to infiltrate the island. He wanted to go in on a plane, cutting their travel time in half, but M was worried about the defenses on the island, and didn't want a plane spotted on a radar and shot down. Boats were much more undetectable.

"After all," M had concluded. "The last thing we want is to alert them to our presence earlier than necessary and have them move Q."

Bond let it go. There was only so much you could get out of arguing with someone who had a higher security clearance than you.

So, they had been flown to the northernmost point of the United Kingdom and gone from there. They were half way through their trip and the only thing causing Bond not to completely lose his mind was his training. He was on a boat and Q could be getting tortured. He was on a boat and Q was already hurt. He was on a boat and Q was at the hands of an organized crime gang who possessed lethal attitudes, and he had been there for 9 days now. They probably still hadn't fed him and he was so small already… Bond mentally shook himself.

"You may be on a boat, but you're on the boat that's taking you to Q," he thought. He relaxed his muscles, focusing on a specific muscle group at a time, but his thoughts were still going around in circles. To distract himself, he remembered everything about Q that he could. His hair – it's colour and length, how it never sat straight, how it felt when Bond ran his hands through it, and how if you tugged at it slightly, Q would arch his back up and whisper his name. Bond thought of his eyes, his cheekbones, his ears, his neck and jawline, his mouth and his smile. He focused on the sound of his laugh, not the quiet chuckle that he did at work, but the explosion of laughter that happened when they were at home together. The first time Bond had heard him laugh like that was after he'd tripped up some stairs, leading to Q's old apartment. Q had told him that maybe if he couldn't walk straight, he shouldn't go out in the field anymore, all with that cheeky grin on his face and his eyes, and that laughter bouncing around the stairwell.

He remembered the first time they'd met, at the National Gallery. He'd only been waiting for a minute before that young boy entered the room. James observed him, it was his job, but paid him no mind, writing him off as another youth who thought that walking through an Art Gallery made them more mindful to the rest of the world. When he sat down next to him, Bond almost rolled his eyes. When he started talking, Bond seriously considered knocking him out. In the first couple of sentences, the boy called him an elderly disgrace who couldn't withstand the pressure of his job. Of course the boy didn't know about Bond's predicament, but the painting did seem a rather unsubtle use of symbolism. Bond always wondered if M had arranged it… When Q had finally introduced himself, Bond couldn't believe it. He was meant to trust this cocky teenager with his life?! But in the seconds that followed, Bond knew that he was wrong. If his new Quartermaster's typing skills were as quick as his comebacks, then he thought they might actually be able to work together. He was even more surprised when the flirtation started. Really? The first visual Q gave of himself was in his pajamas, holding his first cup of tea? Bond's immediate thought was if someone made that cup of tea for him. His second thought was what kind of pajamas this person wore. And their relationship had started there.

Well, Bond liked to think it did, anyway. It took a whole year after Skyfall before Bond found himself in Q's office with a freshly poured drink and Q sitting across from him. And, for once in Bond's life, he just talked. They talked of Skyfall and they talked of M. They talked about things that Bond never talked to anyone about. Bond knew Q would have known about Vesper, but he never asked. And Bond respected Q's privacy on his life before MI6 as well. He wouldn't find out about that until another year later.

Their drink sessions became a common occurrence after every mission. It started with the usual chastisement of Bond's treatment of the equipment, and then they'd pick up where their last conversation had stopped, like old friends.

It was a rainy November day when Bond returned from a mission in Lisbon and walked into Q-unit to see R standing at the main console, quietly directing the minions on the floor. Bond walked up to her and she held her hand out for the equipment. Bond ignored it, and said:

"Where's Q?"

R hesitated.

"R. Where's Q?"

"In his office. He needed a moment to be alone."

Bond had started walking towards Q's door.

"Bond! Leave him be-" she'd managed to get out before he'd opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, and Q was sitting curled up on the sofa in the corner of the room. There was an empty bottle in front of him, and he had his hands cupped around a glass which held the remaining liquid. He was staring at the floor and didn't look up when Bond sat down next to him.

"I bought the equipment back," Bond said, laying it on the table. Q didn't say anything.

"I didn't break any of it," Bond said. No response.

"Q." Bond put a hand on Q's shoulder, and shook it gently. Q slowly looked up and at Bond. His eyes were red, and it seemed to take him a while to register what Bond had said.

"Bond…" His voice sounded so small, and his breath was heavy with alcohol.

"Q, what's happened?" Bond had never seen Q when he wasn't in complete control, and his silence was beginning to scare him.

Q sat up, and let Bond take the glass from his hands.

"My sister died." And with those three words, Bond watched Q break. He crumpled down and sobs tore up his throat. Bond could see his whole body shaking as the shock and the grief overtook him. He pulled gently on Q's shoulder and Q collapsed into him. They had stayed there for hours. After a while, Bond got up and put the kettle on. When Q had his hands wrapped around the warm mug, the shaking began to slow.

"Was she sick?" Bond asked.

Q took a deep breath. "Yes. She had been for a long time."

"Is there anyone you can call? Other family?" It was then that Bond realized that he didn't know if Q had any relatives.

"No. There's no one left. It's just me."

And Bond understood. He knew what it was like to be the last one, to be the only one. He had been that for so long now.

"But you don't have to be alone."

It took a while, but eventually Bond got Q off the couch and into his car. He asked Q for his address and drove him there, walking him slowly up the stairs, and directed him towards the shower. Bond pulled the kitchen apart and made a sort of dinner, which he forced Q to eat before taking him to bed. Exhausted, Q fell asleep straight away. And it just seemed natural for Bond to stay overnight, watching over his Quartermaster. Just like it seemed natural for him to call HQ the next morning and get Q a few days off. He cooked while he helped Q organize the funeral, and Q held his hand as they lowered his sister into the ground. Bond drove Q back to work and bought his paperwork into Q-unit, finding a spare desk and kept an eye on Q all day. He drove him home that night too and offered to pick him up the next morning. Q offered for him to stay over for the night. They didn't sleep together, but just lay next to each other, taking comfort in the warmth of the other person. Bond knew if he asked Q, he would say that that was when their relationship had begun. But for those who had asked, no one ever got told the true story.

But as Bond thought about his Quartermaster he knew that it didn't really matter when they had started being together. All that mattered was that Bond would bring Q back home, back to their house, and back into the safety of his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Bond leaned around the wall as he listened to R's voice in his ear.

"Ok, the guard's just switching places now. Prepare to run to the next corner in three, two, one, go." Bond shot off across the front of the building, running past the main door, not stopping until he reached the corner on the far side. R had spent the last two days steadily hacking in to all the Delta cameras on the island, gathering as much intel on the enemy as she could. They had an extensive multinational guard network, all who lived on the island, but apart from Q, what they were actually guarding was a mystery. None of the cameras showed Q either, but that hadn't surprised anyone. From what it looked like, Q wasn't left alone long enough to be worth observing.

Bond heard R and the team at Q-Unit organizing the placing of the other agents on site. It was always slightly more chaotic when there were multiple people in the field, all getting directed around guards and cameras, like a giant game of cat-and-mouse. In the end, Q-Unit had issued them a dual-earpiece each, which simultaneously connected to two frequencies, an overall one, and an individual one. Bond could almost picture the disarray that would be Q-Unit right now. There would be 11 minders, one for each agent, all working together and individually, coordinating the attack. The amount of multitasking was breathtaking. It was a half a minute before R spoke to him again.

"007, twenty metres down there's a fire door. Open it when the light on the lock turns green, we're deactivating the alarm now." Bond jogged to the door, and waited for the light to change from red to green. When it did, he turned the handle, and slipped inside.

He was standing in a non-descript stairwell that acted as a fire-escape. The lights were dimly lit, just bright enough so Bond could distinguish large shapes, but not anything in great detail. He wondered briefly if he should put on his 'night-vision goggles' (he had mocked Q so much for actually naming them that, but Q had said that you might as well name it simply, so no double 0 agents can get the chance to be confused). He was about to reach into his pocket and retrieve the glasses when R whispered in his ear again.

"All agents are in the building. Please activate your night-vision goggles now." Bond slipped them on and the larger shapes immediately came into focus, but accompanied with a green tinge.

"007, move down two flights of stairs, then go in the door on your right." Bond was lucky enough to have R as his individual minder for the mission. It meant that he not only didn't have to adjust to a different voice like the other agents did, but also that MI6 expected him to see the most action. He wouldn't have had it any other way. He trusted the other agents with his life, they had proved themselves time and time again, but he didn't trust them with Q's.

Because they didn't know exactly where Q was, two agents (Johnson and Travers) were making their way to interrogate some of the higher-up personnel. Bond wished he could take part in the interrogation, wished he could put another face to the cowards who took Q, but he'd much rather be the one who found Q, rather than finding the information that would lead someone else to him. Until the information had been found however, the other agent's main job was to run around, opening as many doors as they could, and generally remain inconspicuous.

"Which is a lot harder than it sounds," Bond thought, as R directed him around a set of cameras. He opened a door to his left, and walked in to an office. He picked up a load of paperwork from the desk and shuffled through it, but found nothing that looked illegal, only a few legal papers about the purchase of the island, by a Mr Thomas Smith. Obviously not his real name, and the transaction was public record.

Well… not exactly. But Q-Unit had found it anyway.

It was all perfectly lawful, and the Mr Smith had disappeared, never to be heard from again, presumably left in the trash with a list of other aliases. Bond put the paperwork down when he realized that it wouldn't contain any new information. He went back into the corridor and opened the next door, going through the papers again. He continued this routine, making his way through the corridor, occasionally ducking out of sight and waiting for R to fix a camera, for twenty minutes before R buzzed back in.

"Good work, agents. 007, Johnson and Travers have worked information as to Q's whereabouts. Step back into the corridor. 003 is about to come round the corner, don't shoot him. 003, turn right." Bond looked up as he heard soft footfalls approaching, and aimed his gun carefully, relaxing when he recognized 003 when he came into view. The two agents nodded at each other, before listening for their next instructions.

"007 and 003, go back to the stairwell and go down four more flights of stairs. Agents Finch and Ashley will be approaching from the north-east, giving you cover, so you shouldn't see each other. But look before you shoot, just in case."

Bond and 003 jogged back to the stairs and flew down them. Bond could not keep his heart level, the adrenaline from the mission pounding through him, almost as strong as his desire to see Q again, to wrap him up against the world and brutally kill whoever thought they could take his Quartermaster away from him.

"Bond, breathe," R said, presumably looking at his vitals on her screen.

"I'll breathe when he's safe, R," was his reply. He caught a look from 003, a short glance of agreement, but also understanding. Bond and Q had a public relationship, there was no point in keeping secrets at MI6, especially with Moneypenny hanging around. Everyone had taken to the news well, although the wrath of a double 0 agent, combined with the potential of having all their computers shut down by Q, seemed like convincing enough reasons to accept and move on. But, ironically, everyone at MI6 were remarkably liberal, despite the traditions and ancient protocol ground into the organization. Sometimes Bond thought of what M, his M, would have made of it all. But her potential reaction to James's surprising turn of domesticity seemed too outrageous to even imagine.

"Turn in here," R said, as they reached the lower floors. Then… "Oh shit. The visual's gone. Has someone cut the cameras?" R called out across Q-Unit. "Travers, Johnson? Is someone up in the control room?" Her questions were met by complete silence. "Shit, shit, shit. Gray and 009, move to the control room now, something's happened. 003 and 007, I can still direct you with the blueprints of the building, but I have no clue about security anymore. Damn it!"

Bond checked the rounds in his Walther, and 003 did the same before they slid into the corridor.

"R, we're out of the stairwell," 003 said as the door closed behind them.

"Fourth turn to the right, then second on your left. Keep close."

Bond and 003 made their way down through the building, keeping their eyes out for the security.

They just made it to the first turn when voices ran out, and a spray of bullets smashed into the walls next to them. Both Bond and 003 dived for cover, aiming and shooting back from where the bullets came from. Bond could make out three people standing at the end of the corridor that they had tried to turn into, crouching behind some open doors.

Bond looked at 003, who nodded, and they both launched into an attack, storming down the corridor as bullets peppered the walls around them. Bond threw himself behind a door as they got closer, and 003 landed all but on top of him, squishing Bond against the wall.

"003, I'm flattered, but I'm dating someone," Bond said, smirking.

003 rolled his eyes.

"I think I got one, I saw one of yours go down, too."

"Where's the third one?"

Both Bond and 003 listened, but there was only silence. Without any warning, 003 pushed against Bond and rolled into the corridor, aiming his gun at the space ahead. There was no sound of gunfire. Bond stood up and walked out.

"He must've run," he said.

"Which means that he's probably gone to get back-up," R piped in, over the intercom. "Run. Down the corridor, second turn on your left. I'll get Finch and Ashley onto the missing man."

The two agents pounded along, arriving at the turn off just as a second lot of bullets echoed down another hall.

"Don't worry," said R's voice. "It's Finch and Ashley, doing a little cleaning up. Continue down the corridor. Bond, third door on your right."

Bond sprinted to the door, completely trusting 003 to cover him in case anyone jumped out. He grabbed the handle and turned it, but it was locked. He stood back and fired three rounds and the lock snapped. He wrenched the door open and leapt inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Bond looked around the room, lowering his gun. It was the same room that the video had been taken in, and there was a camera standing on a tripod, in the same position that Bond had seen the first video. The chair was still in the middle of the room, and bloody wire, made into crude handcuffs, were scattered. There was blood on the walls, and on the floor, and on the chair. Not dripping, like a low-budget horror story, but enough for James to know that this was a real life horror story, and one that didn't seem to have a happy ending.

"Bond?" R said, through the ear-piece. "Bond, what do you see?"

But Bond couldn't say a word, just staring at the empty space in front of him. He'd failed Q again. He'd let them get away.

"Bond!" R's voice was urgent now, holding down panic. 003 walked into the room and surveyed it quickly.

"R, we're in the room, the same one that the video was taken in and there's signs that Q's been in here recently, but he's not here now. We've missed him." He walked over to the camera and pressed a few buttons. "There's another video."

There was a slight pause.

"Right. All agents retreat, I repeat, all agents retreat back to the boat. Bring the hostages."

003 unclipped the camera from the tripod and tucked it into his pocket. Bond was still staring at the room. Slowly, he walked over to a patch of blood that was still wet, and knelt down, in front of the chair.

"Bond, we have to go." He didn't move.

"Bond, come on! We can't help him by staying here, we need to move!" He reached out to grab Bond's shoulder when he saw what the other agent had seen before him. In the blood, someone had painted something. One letter. 'B'. Bond reached out and traced the letter with his own hand, and then looked at his palm, now red with Q's blood.

"James. Let's go." 003's voice was soft, and he tugged at Bond's shoulder. Bond stood and got back to the boat on automatic-pilot, running through the building, shooting anyone who wasn't an agent, jumping over their still-twitching bodies. Once they were back on board and the hostages were carefully restrained and stowed away, the agents met up in the boat's galley. From the 11 there this morning, only 9 were left. Gray and 009 had found Johnson and Traver's bodies had been found in the console room, shot to pieces. They now rested in body-bags under deck. As his thoughts strayed to the hostages, Bond could think of a much better use of the body-bags.

M had called in, instructing them not to look at the video until they were back in HQ. The agents all acquiesced quietly, except for Bond. M had called on him directly, saying "Bond, you hear that? Leave it till you get back here."

"Yes, sir."

003 offered to keep the footage in his cabin, giving Bond a glance telling him not to try anything.

"And the hostages aren't to be harmed on their way over."

The agents nodded.

"Bond?"

"Yes, sir."

Later that night, Bond sat bolt upright in his bed and launched himself at the shadow in his room, aiming for the throat of the intruder. But the other person deflected him deftly, almost gently, and waited until Bond had regained his balance before quietly saying, "Bond, it's 003. Stop attacking me."

Bond recognised the voice, and relaxed his fighting stance, but was still leaking tension.

"You should know that sneaking on a double 0 agent isn't the best life choice," Bond growled. The last person he wanted to see was 003, not after he had volunteered, volunteered, to keep the footage safe from Bond.

"Yes, well, it was the only way I could do this," 003 said, fetching something out of his pocket. It was the camera. Bond's eyes flicked from the camera to 003's face, trying to sense a trap. 003 held it out to Bond.

"I get why M wants us to watch it together, but it's not fair on you to have to see it for the first time with an audience. Make sure you record it, though. If it deletes itself, we'll be killed. If it blows up, I'm blaming you."

Bond nodded, and then hesitated, his mouth opening and closing.

"Thank you, 003." His voice was rough, and not just with sleep. 003 inclined his head and stepped out of Bond's cabin. "Please make sure it's back to me by morning." He closed the door.

Bond looked at the camera in his hand for a long moment, before moving back over to the bed. He opened his mobile phone and pressed 'record' before starting the video. The sense of déjà vu was over-whelming.

Q was, once again, tied to the chair. His laptop sat at his feet, shut. He looked like less than a ghost, than a shadow. His already bony frame now jutted out at odd angles, grey skin stretched tight over the minimal figure.

It was the same two men from the house, and the first video, and they seemed to be reaching their wit's end. The second one was smoking, as if he was trying to calm himself.

"He's not coming," the first man said. Whispering it to Q, trying to make his deep voice persuasive.

"You've been here for two weeks, and there's not been a sign. We even sent him your little video, if you remember that. And still… nothing."

Q was staring at the ground, not speaking a word.

"But you always knew it would end like this, wouldn't you? Bond not being able to get to you in time. Or maybe… Well, maybe it's not all accidental. Bond's given up on you. And I can see why." He leaned in to Q's face. "You're pathetic. The only thing you're good at is computers, and there's no emotion involved in computers. So there's nothing you can screw up." He slapped Q across the face. It wasn't aimed to hurt, merely to demean him, like he was a dog. "Have you ever considered that maybe he would actually love you if you had saved M? Instead he's got you following him around, like you're actually important, but all you do is get under his feet. You're nothing to him. And the fact that he's not here is proof of that. Who knows, maybe he's even having a holiday somewhere, enjoying some final peace and quiet."

"You're wrong." Q's voice was scratchy and hoarse. "He hates holidays."

The first man roared in frustration and strode over to the other man, taking the cigarette from his hand.

"Hey!" The man shouted, but was ignored.

The first man came up to Q again and pushed the cigarette in Q's shoulder, Bond saw the remnants of Q's shirt start to smoke, and Q's arm shook violently. Q was biting his lip, drawing blood, and the man pushed harder. Finally, Q gave a scream of pain and the man smiled. He bought the cigarette away. Only to push it back into Q's arm a few centimetres down.

Q writhed and screamed, fresh blood staining him. The man held it there for thirty seconds before releasing Q, who hunched forward and retched dryly, spasms electrocuting his body.

"You're nothing to them!" The man shouted. "You're nothing! They've let you go! Bond never loved you, because he can't love anyone. And if he did, it would be a beautiful, smart, seductress, not a waste of scrap like you, you little shit!" He rammed his fist into Q's ribs, again and again, in time with his words.

"Tell me the password to the laptop! TELL ME!"

Q hunched over as far as he could, and vomited a gush of blood. He collapsed into the chair, barely breathing. The man looked at him in complete disgust.

"Right." He walked behind the camera and moved something around. The second man looked worried.

"What are you doing?!"

The first man came back with a gun in his hand.

"We need him alive!" The second man said, walking forward, pushing in between Q and the first man. He received an upper cut to the jaw and went sprawling. The first man pushed the gun to Q's head.

"Tell me."

"No," Q ground out, looking straight into his opponent's eyes.

The man released the safety catch.

"Tell me or the only thing Bond will find is a video of your corpse."

"You're wrong. He'll still find you."

Bond could see the man shaking with fury. The second man was only now heaving himself off the floor, rubbing his jaw, glaring at his partner.

"Let him come."

The man leveled the gun and looked Q in the eye, hand squeezing the trigger… When the door burst open and a third man ran in, clutching his bleeding arm.

"They're here. They've stormed the building. They're only a few corridors away."

The first man dropped the gun and Q shoulders slumped almost unnoticeably, and a look of hope and triumph flashed across his face, before he carefully controlled it.

"Shit." He looked around, apparently lost. "Shit!"

Just then, his phone rang. He picked it up, listening intently for a few moments before putting it back in his pocket.

"The boss. He's got us a way out, and a fuckload of cash if we get him out, too," he said, barely looking at Q.

"We don't have time," the second man said, jumping nervously at the sound of gunshots up the corridor.

"He also said that if we get out without him, we'll be used as hunting practice."

The second man swore and turned to Q, undoing his restraints and tossing them onto the ground. Q fell onto the floor, as soon as he was free, apparently unable to move. He reached down and picked Q up, ignoring the shout of pain as Q was tossed over his shoulder. Bond caught a glimpse of a bloodied finger, on Q's right hand, which he'd landed on as he'd fallen.

"Where to?"

"The next room over, we're using the tunnels, then a copter," said the first man, as he scooped Q's laptop up. The three of them ran out of the room, slamming the door shut and apparently forgetting about the camera they'd left behind. A few minutes later, Bond saw himself jump into the room, and stand, shocked at the scene before him. The video kept recording as 003 entered behind him, speaking briefly to R as he walked to the camera and pressed the stop button.

Bond sat rigid in his chair. He'd been so close. Just five minutes away. Q was still probably in the building as he and 003 had retreated. The guilt and rage built up inside of him, filling his lungs and his head. Unable to sit down, he stood up, breathing for a moment before turning around and smashing his fist into the wall. He heard a yelp as the agent sleeping next door was woken up. Bond wrenched open the door and stalked along the passage, ignoring the door opening behind him. He kept walking, unsure of where he was going before he found himself at the door to the hostage's room. He stood there, trying to think rationally and critically about his actions. They could have information about Q, about this organisation. But, they still had pulses, which was something which Bond didn't know if Q still had. He took a deep breath and put his hand on the door. The cool metal on his fingertips broke through his wall of red, and he exhaled, stepping away from the door, and turned around. 003 was standing in the corridor, a few metres away from him aiming his gun carefully. They both looked at each other for a moment and Bond took another step away from the door. 003 lowered his gun, and walked away.

Bond followed him, going upstairs until he was standing on the deck, letting the wind blow his rage into a simmer again. 003 leaned against a rail, and Bond copied him, both of them easily adjusting their weight to the movement of the boat.

"I watched it before I gave it to you," 003 said eventually. Bond's icy eyes drilled into him. "It's not your fault, Bond. We'll get him. We'll get him alive. And then we'll kill every bastard who was in a five kilometre radius, I promise." Bond just kept watching him.

"I know… I can't even begin to imagine how much harder this is for you. But he knows you're coming. He knows you wouldn't ever give up. You saw him, he wrote that 'B' so you knew that he still believes in you. Q isn't broken easily."

Bond was still silent. 003 stopped talking, fearing that he might just be making the situation worse.

And, only because they were both quiet, could they just make out the distinctive whirr of a helicopter. Bond's eyes flashed to the sky, and then to 003, and both of them sprinted down the deck, towards the bridge. They burst through the door, Bond pushing the navigator out of the way as he locked on to the helicopter, and 003 called R.

"R! There's a helicopter, leaving Markusi. We think Q's on it! Track it, quick!" He was all but yelling as he gave her the coordinates. The navigator reached around Bond, and pressed a few keys on the board. Bond immediately felt the boat start to swing around, chasing the sound of the helicopter across the water.

"Please," he murmured. "Please, Q, just this once, please." The boat roared as the captain stepped on the motor, and they sped away into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Q tried to use the sound of the helicopter's rotor to block the pain out, but he didn't even think James had such good disassociation skills. He had seen agents, even his 007, came back from missions where they'd been tortured, but none of them had ever seemed this bad and Q couldn't decide if he was as weak as he thought he was, or if his captors were more malicious than anyone else who'd taken an MI6 operative. As strange as it sounded, he hoped it was the latter.

He wasn't masochistic, far, far from it, but when Bond found him, Q didn't want him to think that Q was weak after all. Q had done a lot of thinking in the past… he didn't know how long. He hadn't seen sunlight since he was taken, and there had been no food to pass the days. He also didn't know how long his frequent bouts of unconsciousness were lasting. The first man had said it was a fortnight, but surely not… Anyway, however long it was, Q had been thinking. About a lot of things, depending on the situation, of course. If Q was getting tortured he tried to think of things that he could lose himself in. He ran through terabytes of codes in his head, he mapped out the London city exactly in his mind's eye. He counted to a thousand, ten thousand, a million, listing all the multiples and factors of every number. But when things got really bad, when things didn't stop hurting, and they left him no time to heal, he thought about James. His James.

He couldn't believe that he was nervous about meeting him, that first time in the National Gallery. But then again, it was Q's first mission, too, and James was the first double 0 he had dealt with and their reputation, especially Bond's, preceded them. He was shocked when he first started talking, almost taken aback by how rude he was. But Q can give as good as he can take, and shot it all back in the agent's face, not demanding respect, but certainly earning it. After that, their relationship seemed to take a turn for the better. Bond talked to Q, in a way that Bond didn't talk to anyone else and Q had treasured those drink meetings in Q's office. It's where he finally got to know Bond as a person, rather than as a weapon, and he was constantly surprising himself about how much he liked what he found.

As much as he wished, he knew it would never move beyond that simple friendship. Even without taking into account MI6's regulations about colleagues dating, James Bond didn't settle down, and not with someone like him. James Bond didn't need a house to go back to after a hard mission, and he didn't need someone to hold when another death scratched its way into his brain. He didn't need that comfort and reassurance that normal people did, because he was James Bond, the unbreakable MI6 top operative, known for his stone cold manner and his irrepressible flirting. So although Q loved every moment they spent together, he tried his hardest to remain distant, to remain the Quartermaster of MI6, rather than Q – the boy who secretly loved a secret agent.

After, when Q thought back on it, he was actually quite ashamed of how wrong he was. Bond was human. He just hid it better than everyone else.

When Q's sister died, Q's world stopped. She was the only one left. His parents had died when their children were mid-way through their teens, and she got sick soon after. He never told Bond what had happened. He never told Bond the whole story. He never told him that not only were they siblings, but twins. He never told him that she wasn't sick, in the normal sense of the word. She had been diagnosed, with depression, less than a year after their parents died. He never told him that he couldn't visit her as often, when he started working for MI6, and he never told her why. James doesn't know that Q blames himself. But, when Q thought that the world truly had swallowed him, chewed him up, and spat him back out, Bond was there. He walked into the office and pulled the bottle out of Q's hand. He got him talking, when Q thought he never would. And Q loved him even more for that.

So, Q thought of James and his ever-welcome presence. He tried to cut the pain down by imagining himself in James's arms, with James kissing each bruise until it was all healed. He imagined him bursting through the door, guns blazing, just like Q knew he would, when he got the chance.

When he was in the cell, about to be shot, and that man had burst in, Q's heart lifted. He felt for sure that Bond was about to leap through the door and gather him up in his arms. He knew it would probably only be minutes after they'd left before Bond was in the room, looking at Q's one word message, telling him that he loved him, he knew he was coming for him, he knew that it would be OK, in the end. As they were leaving the cell, he heard gun-shots, and he didn't know if it was just wishful thinking, but he felt sure that he could identify James's Walther from the rest…

The helicopter lurched and Q shallow breaths hitched, his mind breaking free of Bond's embrace and landing with a smack into reality. Q's head spun. His arms were screaming at him, his wrists still bleeding from the wire cuffs they'd taken off him back in the cell, and he could still feel the cigarette on his arm, burning its way down to the bone. Just like he could feel the knife, and that machine which sent electric pulses through him, threatening to stop his heart every time. It hurt to breathe, he was sure he had a few broken ribs. The cut on his forehead still leaked blood every now and again, which got in Q's eyes. His knees were bruised from being shoved down onto the concrete floor.

"Just a bit longer," he kept telling himself. "James will find you. Just a bit longer." His foot hurt as well, from where they'd cut out his tracker. As soon as they had him in the car, they had scanned him, taking away his tech and his two trackers. The one in his foot, which had been removed as they were still driving out of London, and the one in his glasses, which were thrown from the window and smashed beneath the car. Q was glad he was still asleep for that. Going from the pain in his foot now, it wouldn't have been pleasant.

One of the men pushed Q roughly, making Q's head spin as they forced him to roll over, his ribs shrieking in pain. He didn't know where they were going now. They had left the island that they were on, after a long and incredibly painful carry through the underground tunnels in their base. Q supposed that he would just wait until they were going to send another video off to James, and try and tell him where he ended up. At least in a helicopter he would be able to count the days easily. He didn't even have to move.

He thought he felt the helicopter slowing down, but that can't be right… Surely they wouldn't have reached land by now. Unless it was another island… Q felt his eyes sliding shut, against his will. Surely a little rest wouldn't hurt… He would wake up with the sunrise, and count the first day, ready to tell James to come get him.


	9. Chapter 9

James Bond noticed the helicopter slowing down, too. They were approaching another small island, after heading west for a few hours. R was tracking the helicopter, and Bond knew that MI6 was borrowing copters from Svalbard and Greenland, calling in their international agents. The other agents on the boat had now all watched the video, and a copy of it had been sent back to MI6, where R and M had watched it, too. Apart from knowing the condition of Q, and seeing a third person, it didn't have much extra information, Q didn't have time to tell them something that had been going on.

003 and 009 had gone into the captor's room, asking them about the location where the helicopter might end up, but they seemed to be resolute on not saying anything unless it assured them better treatment once they hit British soil. A message had been fired to M, who had thought it through, and then agreed. The men, they said their names were John and Tyler, then seemed quite happy to talk, telling them that they were part of a huge underground weapons trading scheme that had only managed to keep quiet due to their generally remote locations. Markusi had been a temporary set-up, entirely for Q. They had several other bases, and when shown a map of their whereabouts, they pointed to another nondescript island.

"They'll end up there," Tyler said with one hundred percent confidence.

"How can you be so certain?" The double 0's were suspicious of anything that seemed definite.

"The boss is tricky, they're incredibly guarded about everything to do with the trading. They don't trust anyone. Only limited fuel is supplied to the island, for the boats and helicopters. No one could run far enough to get away from them."

"This boss," 009 had said. "Tell me about them."

"We don't know. We've never seen a face, or heard a voice. They do everything remotely, either through technology, or another person. He's ruthless, though. A year ago, someone in the tech department made a mistake and a whole branch of us, in the Mediterranean, got completely smashed out. That person from tech… was made an example of."

"Well," John added, "at least his head was."

They tried quizzing them on the island, but neither of them had been there before and didn't know possible defences used, or even how many people would be there. It was then that the door slid open, and Bond slipped into the room.

Both 00 agents looked at him, and 003 rested a hand on his gun, not as a threat, but as a reminder that Bond had to keep his head. Bond met his eyes and nodded.

"The captive, then." Bond said, leaning against the wall. "Why him?"

"The Quartermaster? Isn't it obvious?" John said, looking at Bond and furrowing his brow. Bond motioned for him to keep talking.

"The agents from the MI6 are lethal, top-of-the-range weapons who see a target and take it, no matter what. They get things done, they screw us over, like they did in the Mediterranean, and they usually kill a large number in the process."

"But those are the agents, not the Quartermaster," 009 pointed out.

"But who's in their ear every single mission? Who's guiding them where to go, where their target is, how to get out without being seen by anyone? Your Quartermaster's name runs in circles in the underground, everyone knows that he's the real threat. Without him, MI6 are no better than any other organisation. Take the Quartermaster away, and MI6 is nothing."

003 looked like he was about to say something, but Bond cut in.

"And the two men that abducted him, and are in the videos. One of them is a genius, he had to get past the door at the apartment, and he got into Q's phone."

"But not into the laptop," Tyler said, smirking a little. "That guy's not very popular, even within the group. He's… intellectual, as you said, but he goes over the top sometimes. We've lost a few good hostages because of him. Your Quartermaster has been the longest anyone's held out. You should be proud."

Bond's hands twitched, and 003 could see his mind reeling.

"I think there are plenty other reasons to be proud of the Quartermaster." Bond slowly opened the door, and then turned around. He stared both of the captor's down, and let his very carefully controlled mask slip away. Fury burned in every angle of his face, on every line ran another shot of hatred. Both Tyler and John stepped back involuntarily. Bond's whole body was tensed, as if ready to fling himself at their throats, and the idea of a gun now seemed remarkably silly, for this man could kill them with a single touch. But his eyes were the worst. That icy blue seemed to burn through their minds, forging itself into their brains, like lava, like liquid nitrogen, searing the memory of an unspoken promise. I will kill you. I will take this organisation apart. I will find Q. And there's nothing you can do to stop me.


	10. Chapter 10

The helicopter was now only crawling through the sky, descending towards an unknown island. Q had his eyes closed against the pain and he gasped as it jolted on landing. He heard the engine fade away and die, and there was movement around him as his captors prepared to leave. He tried to stay as still as possible, not even letting his chest rise and fall with his tiny breaths.

"Where are we putting him?" A voice rang out through the cabin.

"You are putting him in the main building, LG114. I am going to go get some food. It must have been at least 6 hours since I last ate." That was the man Q had come to think of as the first man, the first one he saw, at the apartment, and the one who always started the pain.

"Hey, wait up, I haven't eaten since then, either!"

"Tough luck then, isn't it?"

The other man grumbled and moved to the other side of the small space they were in.

"At least bring some back, won't you? Anything, even a-"

But he was cut off, as the sound of another helicopter engine came from overhead. In a second blinding light filled the cabin, and Q opened his eyes, squinting against it, but needing to see. The next words echoed from a loudspeaker.

"Helicopter on the ground, you are surrounded by three helicopters overhead, and a team of people on foot who you really don't want to cross. Come out slowly, with your hands up. We know your cargo, leave him on board."

For one second, Q completely forgot the pain, and smiled.

Four of the remaining agents surrounded the helicopter, the other five were moving through the main building on the island. Bond was at the front of the four, gun aimed squarely at the door of the helicopter, waiting for some kind of movement from the inside. Then, slowly, the door opened and two men stepped out. The first was another face Bond had never seen before, and was obviously the pilot. He was wearing an aviation headset, and walked stiffly, like he'd been sitting down for hours. The second man was the second man from the house, and the videos. Bond's jaw gritted as he saw him in the flesh. The two men jumped cautiously onto the tarmac, with their hands in the air. As soon as their feet touched the ground two agents on either side of him, Finch and 009, handcuffed them, and led them out of the way of the landed helicopter.

"R," Bond said into his earpiece. "There's still the first man in their helicopter, with Q. He's not coming out."

"On it," R said. A few seconds later the loudspeaker came on again.

"We know that there is still one other person in the helicopter. Come out now, with your hands up, or we're coming in."

There was no change.

"Go for it, 007. But please remember that we'd like him alive."

"Conscious?" Bond asked.

"That's completely up to you," R said, her calm demeanour slipping.

Bond motioned to 003 that they were going in, and 003 walked to the side of the helicopter and bent his knees, cupping his hands together. Bond walked up to him and placed his foot in 003's hands, and was boosted into the cabin. His gun was already in his hand, and he took in the scene quickly.

The man, the first man, was standing at the back of the cabin, looking directly at Bond. He was holding a gun, but it wasn't pointed at him, it was nestled in the bloody mess of Q's hair, who was slumped on the ground at the man's feet. Bond's vision flickered red for a moment before his training overrode his emotions.

"Ah, Mr Bond," the man said, trying to look casual. "We meet at last. I must admit, I had begun to think you weren't going to make it in time."

"Put the gun down, Mr…" Bond trailed off. Q didn't move, even at the sound of his voice. Was he even awake?

"Mr Stuart, you can call me."

"That's not your real name," Bond countered.

"Oh, you're good," Mr Stuart's voice was heavy with sarcasm.

"Put the gun down." This time it was an order.

"See, I don't think I will. I want to make a deal."

Bond wanted to roll his eyes. Why do they always want to make a deal?

"What makes you think that you have any power in this situation? You're completely surrounded. We already know quite a bit about the organisation, you can thank John and Tyler for that. Although, those aren't their real names, either. We have people moving through this building's personnel files as I speak, and soon we're going to have enough information to bring your whole group down. So put the gun away."

The man just laughed, the same laugh he did at the apartment, when Q didn't know that his gun was empty. It was the laugh of a man with nothing to lose.

"I think you underestimate me, Mr Bond. You want to see my power?" He pushed the barrel into Q's head, and Q let out a small groan. Bond's heart was in his throat, what was this insane person doing? He wouldn't shoot Q… Not now, not after all this… The barrel was pushed again, forcing Q to move his head, so was almost parallel to the ground, and his eyes were still closed. Bond couldn't stand it.

"What do you want?"

"See, now I have your full attention. I have all the information you need to get into the database, including the whereabouts of the boss. I want you to let me go, and I'll destroy the firewall. It's all yours. But you don't follow me, you don't keep tabs on me, and you don't kill me."

As the man was speaking, Q's eyes flickered open. Bond knew he could barely see without his glasses, but he saw where Bond was standing. At Stuart's words, Q slowly shook his head. Bond couldn't take his eyes away from Stuart, but in his peripheral vision he saw Q silently mouth the words "I can do it." Bond got the message. They didn't need Stuart, not to get the rest of them.

"You're not asking for protection?" Bond said, biding his time. He knew 003 was hanging off the door of the helicopter, out of Stuart's view, ready to leap in if needed. The only thing he had to do was to get the gun away from Q, and that wasn't going to happen by talking.

"No. You would sell me out in seconds, I'm not stupid."

"Oh, you're not?" Bond said. "See, you've made one very, very big mistake in the past fortnight. A huge mistake, and one which is going to cause you quite a bit of trouble later on. You've ah… how do I say this nicely… Pissed off the wrong people."

Q allowed himself a small smile again, but it was exactly the wrong thing to do. Stuart saw him move, and he knew that the game was up. If Bond knew Q was conscious, Q had probably already told him that he could get past the firewall himself, they didn't need him. Stuart thought fast. He was going to die. What could he do in the seconds he had left?

He pulled the trigger...


	11. Chapter 11

… Half a second after Bond fired his.

Stuart was already slumping as his finger closed around the trigger, firing his gun was the last thing he ever did. Bond was moving as soon as Stuart's head hit the ground, running at Q, closing the gap between them in less than a second. Q was clutching at his left forearm and blood streamed past his fingers.

"James," he murmured. "James, you came."

"Of course I did, Q." He tore off a strip of his shirt and gently pushed Q's fingers away, tying the fabric firmly around the gun wound. "What else hurts, Q?"

Bond saw apprehension flash across Q's eyes for a split second.

"Q, you need to tell me before I move you. Is anything broken?"

"Ribs, concussion, and then just general wear and tear. But it's the ribs that hurt." Q's breathing was speeding up as his body went into shock.

Bond found a piece of his hand that wasn't injured and started massaging it, just like he did after Q's hands cramped if he typed for 12 hours straight, carefully avoiding the deep lashes around his wrists.

"R," he said into his earpiece. "I've got Q, Stuart's dead, but Q's been shot in the arm, and I don't think I can move him. He's got broken ribs, not to mention half a hundred other things, and he's going into shock."

"Hang on 007, hang on Q, I'm dropping a medical kit out of one of the helicopters, it'll be there in a minute."

Bond turned back to look at Q, who's eyes were sliding shut.

"Q!" He said, knowing the importance of keeping him awake until he was stabilised. "Q darling, stay with me, please. Just listen to my voice. Open your eyes, Q. Look into my eyes."

With a colossal effort, Q forced his eyelids to rise and he looked blearily at Bond.

"James," his voice was just a whisper, as if he could barely get any sound from his lungs. Bond leaned in closer, so Q's lips were at his ear.

"James, I love you. I'm sorry that I'm here, that I-" But Bond cut him off.

"Ssh, it's OK. Don't ever apologise for that. We'll find the people, this boss, and we'll get them, I promise."

"I'll help," Q said weakly.

"I'm counting on it." Bond chuckled. "I'm proud, you're not even back in London and you're already planning your revenge."

"I think ahead."

"It's one of your many charms, Q." That got a smile from him.

"I know."

At that moment, 003 swung into the helicopter, holding a medical kit. He knelt down next to Q and started strapping his arm as best as he could, talking in his best bedside manner.

"Now Q, I promised not to tell you this, but Bond has been absolutely awful while you've been gone. He stormed through Q-Branch, scattering your minions. He slept in your office, and even refused a drink from M! And he didn't shower for days. Really, it's a mess when you're not there, it's a wonder we got along without you for so long."

Bond tried to look sheepish.

"Actually Q… I forgot to pay the rent."

Q flinched as 003 finished up on his arm, and started cutting the remains of his shirt off him.

"You're in trouble, James."

"It's OK, you can just hack into the company and give us a couple more weeks, right? It shouldn't be that… Oh, Q!"

As 003 had gently peeled away the rest of the fabric, Q's chest and torso were revealed. Cuts and burns made tracks through his skin, and red welts had appeared whenever they'd used the electric shock machine. Whatever wasn't covered in blood was covered in bruises. 003 gave Bond a warning look before asking Q to lean forward. As Q did what he said, he kept his eyes on James, trying to read his face as best he could without his glasses.

"I never thought I'd see you look at me with disgust, James," Q said, trying to sound confident, but his stomach was nervous. Would Bond think he didn't try and fight them? He groaned as 003 pulled a bandage around his ribs, and his vision blacked out. He came to with Bond pressing him gently against the wall, holding him steady, as 003 gave him an injection in his right arm.

"Come on, Q," Bond said, as he saw Q's eyes flicker again. "Just a little bit longer. Then we'll get you home. I promise." A few minutes later, another helicopter landed on the island, and the pain relief started to work. 003 picked Q up smoothly and Bond jumped out of the helicopter. 003 passed him down to Bond who took him up the stairs and into the second helicopter. There had been a bed prepared and Bond lay Q down as if he were made of glass, and then strapped him down, so he wouldn't move as they took off. 003 jumped in after them, and the door closed, leaving the rest of the MI6 agents to clean up the mess.

James sat down next to Q's bed and carefully took his hand.

"Q, you can sleep now. We'll be back in London before you know it."

Q nodded, his eyes already shut.

"James?" Bond was forced to lean in again, to catch Q's words. "I knew you'd find me."

003 would never tell anyone, but in that second, he saw something wet glisten on 007's cheek.


	12. Chapter 12

Bond squeezed onto the bed next to Q. He'd been in a medically-induced sleep for a week, allowing his body time to respond to the healing processes it was being put through. His torso was going to be a mass of scars, enough to challenge even Bond's count, but his ribs were doing well, and they'd managed to stitch up the worst of the cuts. His bullet wound had been lucky, it had gone straight through and had almost seemed to go out of its way not to hit anything. Q had been taken off the drip that was keeping him unconscious an hour ago, and now Bond was just waiting for him to wake up, so he could tell him that he loved him, so he could tell him that he was safe... But as Bond lay down his mind turned cloudy and he fought off sleep for a few minutes before giving in, and fell asleep at Q's side.

"M, he's here," Eve's voice sounded through the intercom.

"Let him in," M said, standing from his chair.

Tanner walked into M's office and shook M's offered hand.

"Welcome back Tanner. And thank you for coming out of retirement for this."

"Only for Q, the poor sod. If there's anything I can do to help transition him back in, let me know."

"You have no idea how much I appreciate that," M said, smiling briefly. He checked his watch. "You know, he was taken off the drip two hours ago. Do you want to walk down with me and see if he's awake?"

"Definitely, sir."

Eve stood up and followed them as they walked away from the office. Tanner raised an eyebrow, but M shrugged and ignored her. They chatted on the way down, mostly about Tanner's short-lived retirement. He lived in Portugal for two years, but had been called back into service to smooth over staffing difficulties while Q was finding his feet. They were about halfway down to Medical (Bond had refused to put Q into a hospital, too many questions) when 007 came up in the conversation.

"How's he been?" Tanner asked tentatively.

"He hasn't left Q's side since they got him on the island. I haven't asked him to officially debrief yet, either. It was horrid when we couldn't find Q, the man was wrecked. I almost didn't want to put him on the force to go retrieve him, but I knew that if he wasn't front and centre, he'd kill to get there… Maybe literally."

"I've seen the transcripts from the earpiece."

M smiled.

"It doesn't surprise me that Q's the grounded one in the relationship. Bond forgot to pay the rent, and I bet it's not the first time that's happened, either." They both laughed. "The minions were hanging onto every word, they barely see their Quartermaster get emotional, I think if they weren't so shocked at him being shot at the last moment, they would have remembered the bets they'd taken a few months before."

"Which were?"

"If he and Bond actually said 'I love you' or not. Or talked at all, for that matter."

Tanner laughed again. They walked through Medical, and were waved through to Q's room. They stopped talking and Eve shamelessly listened at the door, but there wasn't any sound apart from the steady beat of a heart monitor. M opened the door quietly and stepped inside, followed by Eve and Tanner. They all stopped and stared. Bond was curled up next to the Quartermaster, both of them sleeping peacefully. One of Bond's hands was still underneath Q's head, letting Q use it as a pillow, and the other was sitting carefully on Q's arm, avoiding the IV even in sleep. Q had snuggled into Bond's chest and wrapped his bandages ankle over one of Bond's. M had never seen either the agent or the Quartermaster look so calm.

He motioned that they should leave and they stepped outside, almost running into a nurse who was about to come in. Eve hurriedly pocketed her phone.

"How is our Quartermaster looking, sir?"

"Asleep, but I think he's being very well looked after."

The nurse smiled.

"007 is always there. We're very grateful for his patience. But Q should wake up soon."

"You mean he hasn't woken up already?" Tanner asked, frowning slightly.

"No sir, we've taken him off the drip, so he's sleeping naturally at the moment. It's the best thing for him."

Eve opened her mouth, but M cut her off.

"Could you please call me when he wakes?"

"Of course, sir," said the nurse, smiling brightly before bustling away.

Eve couldn't contain herself any longer and let a small squeal.

"Miss Moneypenny, really!"

"But, oh! Q hasn't even woken up, and he's still all curled into James, oh! They're so adorable!"

"Eve, that's enough," but M was smiling, too. The three of them began walking back towards the offices.

"And Eve, did you have your phone out in there?"

Eve did her best to keep an innocent face.

"Eve," M said, warningly.

"Yes, sir."

"Were you, by any chance, taking a picture of our double 0 agent, and the Quartermaster of MI6?"

Eve looked down, trying her best to look guilty.

"Yes, sir."

M let her hang for a few seconds, Tanner watched Eve's face drop as she realised she might very well be in trouble.

"Will it make its way down to Q-unit?"

"No, sir," she said, straight away.

"But you'll keep it saved, just in case?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Go back to work."

Eve practically skipped away back to her desk, while M walked Tanner to his old office.

"M, could you tell me when Q wakes up, please? I'd love to check in on him."

"I'm sure he'd be glad to see you, Tanner. Thanks for coming back."

"Of course, sir."

"I'll be in my office."

Bond woke up as soon as he felt Q move next to him, stretching out like he always did when we woke up, before inhaling sharply and curling back into a loose ball.

"Ribs still sore?"

Q looked blearily at Bond and Bond picked up Q's new glasses from the bedside table and put them on him. Immediately Q smiled.

"Ah, the ability to see… I've missed it," Q said as Bond sat up, careful not to even brush against Q. "Hey, who gave you permission to leave?" Bond smiled, and stayed seated, while Q shuffled over to rest his head on James's leg. Bond ran a hand through his hair, keeping away from the stitches at Q's hairline. Q sighed happily.

They stayed together in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's conscious company.

"Q?" Bond said eventually.

"Yes James?"

"I ran out of time on the island to say it, but I promise every time after this I will make time. I love you, too."

Q turned his head and kissed Bond's knee through his pants.

"Can I sit up?" he asked, not sure of the protocol. So many times it had been him who was sitting in Medical, waiting for Bond to wake up,checking his vitals, calling the nurse in if his breathing hitched in his sleep, but now he was the patient and he didn't know how he felt about the change.

Bond eased out from under Q's head and supported him as he got into a sitting position.

"How are you feeling, my love?"

Q hesitated. Bond noticed and his mind flashed back to when they were in the helicopter.

"Q, what's wrong? You didn't want to talk to me on the island either, when I asked you what was hurt. And even then, you listed things off like they were on someone else. You said everything apart from your concussion and ribs was general wear and tear, and now you have almost more scars than me. Look at me, Q," for as Bond was speaking Q had been staring into the sheets on the bed. "What is it?"

"You've hardly got any scars," Q pointed out.

"That's because they've all been grafted over, which I'm told you have the pleasure of looking forward to once your stitches come out. Don't avoid the question."

Q thought about something for a minute, and then spoke, gingerly, as if saying the wrong thing might end in disaster.

"I… I tried, James. I tried to fight them, I promise you I did. But things were happening so quickly, and I kept blacking out, and then they'dalways be there when I woke. I'm so sorry, I tried, I-"

"Q this isn't your fault." Bond couldn't say anything else because he couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could Q think that he had caused any of this?

"James… When I was in the tunnel going to the helicopter, the third man, the one who ran in, he said that there was an interrogation going on of their higher personnel, in the control room, by two agents, but they were overpowered. I thought it was you, I thought you were dead, James! But then the man said that he'd been fighting two agents in the hall, and he described you as the one who shot him. Who were they? The agents who died?"

Bond shook his head.

"You don't need to know, not at the moment, Q."

"Don't belittle me, Bond. Who was it? Who died?"

They stared at each other, the tension in the room building before Bond sighed.

"Travers and Johnson. But Q, they knew what they were getting themselves into, we all do."

"They died because of me, James."

"No, they died because some bastards sneaked up behind them on a mission."

"They wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me!"

"It was a job, Q. For everyone, it was another job. It's not your fault." And Bond knew it wasn't, but Bond also knew what it felt like, to have someone's blood on your hands. The late M's still weighed heavily on his mind.

"Has someone already written to their families?"

"Of course. You've been asleep for a week, which is why you're able to sit up with your ribs. 5 broken, 2 cracked, by the way. It's a miracle none of the shards went into your lungs."

Q thought about calling Bond on the change of topic, but then let it go.

"What else have I been labelled with?"

"Your concussion's well and truly gone, your arm will be back to full capacity in another few weeks. You're lucky with that one. You've only got 22 stitches all up, mostly because it was just easier to glue you back together. You're foot's going to hurt to walk on, where they cut out your tracker for a while. Please tell you weren't awake for that one."

"I wasn't."

"That's something, then. They'll need to run tests to make sure that there's no internal damage."

"I thought they would have done that already."

"Some of them you have to be conscious for. Is there anything they should be worried about?"

"There's no internal bleeding?"

"Not anymore."

"Have they checked my heart?"

"That was one of the one's they wanted you to be awake for. They recognised the imprints left by the electric shocks. It worked as a kind of weak defibrillator, it didn't completely stop your heart, but it came close a couple of times."

"And my wrists?"

"There was some slight infection, but you've been loaded up with antibiotics so that'll be fine. Anything else?"

"Do you know how many psych analysis I'm going to have to sit through before they let me back into Q-Unit?"

"Well, my record is 5 before I got cleared to go back in the field. We'll see if you can break it."

"I've missed you, James."

Bond looked at him, his expression deadly serious.

"I'm never letting you go again, Q."

Q leant forward, ignoring the throbbing in his ribs, and kissed him.


	13. Chapter 13

They were interrupted a few moments later by a nurse who barged in without knocking. She glared at Bond for a moment before addressing Q.

"Quartermaster. We noticed your heart beat rose and we thought you'd be awake. You really should be resting." There was another pointed glare at Bond, who slid off the bed and into a chair. She offered a glass of water to Q who sipped it gratefully.

"Now, how are you feeling?"

"Overall, OK. Things hurt, but it's not unbearable. 007 has been giving me a run-down of what's been happening."

"Yes, we've done several tests and I commend you on healing well. You have a strong immune system, Quartermaster. There are a few tests we wanted you to be awake for, and we will begin these as soon as you can stomach solid food and we can take you off the IV, which we'll begin tonight. Until then, you need to stay relaxed and keep hydrated."

Q nodded, and accepted another glass of water.

"Also, we're under orders to tell M that you're awake, so you may be getting another visitor shortly." The nurse looked thoroughly annoyed.

"That'll help with the relaxing, I'm sure," Q said, and Bond tried to cover his laughter with an unconvincing cough.

"Yes, well, if you get too stressed, he'll be leaving the room immediately."

Bond wondered if anyone had told M this.

"Thank you, nurse. Could you leave the water here, please?"

"Of course, Quartermaster. Press the call button if you need anything."

The door closed softly behind her.

"So, five minutes till M gets here?" Bond guessed, taking Q's hand that wasn't holding the cup in his own.

"Please, he's got a department to run. Give it ten."

They chatted for a while, catching up on the unimportant things that had happened in the three weeks that Q had missed: the news, the rare sunny day, until Bond grew serious again.

"Q, M's going to come down here and ask what happened. He'll ask what you remember, and if they said anything in front of you that'll help find this organisation. I also wouldn't put it past him to bring the files and Stuart's laptop down first visit. I know you want to get in to this, I know that you're going to help, but I need to make sure that you know that you only have to start when you want to. We can't use you and your brilliant mind if you're stressed from healing and the psych evaluation. They're taxing, I should know, and it takes time. And I know it doesn't seem like it, but we've got time. No one's being held hostage, no one's having a clock put on them, and I won't have one put on you."

Q realised the effort it took to make James say that. Only because he knew Bond like he knew himself, he could tell that Bond wanted to hunt down every single person associated with the people who took him. He could see that cold-hearted training beginning to sharpen and focus his thinking, strategies forming in his mind, plans making their way through impossibilities to form into directions he was dying to follow, and he loved him for it. He loved him because Q knew that the next step into finding this 'boss' was to hack into Stuart's computer. Q knew that if M was bringing it down, it meant that R and everyone else in Q-Unit hadn't been able to. Q knew that Bond was putting off his own revenge to make sure that Q was OK. But something James had said wasn't true…

"That's not right, James."

Bond looked at him questioningly.

"What do you mean?"

"Sure, there's not a gun held to my head anymore, but that doesn't mean that they don't have other people captive. There could be hundreds, bleeding out in cells. Just because we don't have their names, or their locations doesn't make it any less real than me being there. Think of Johnson and Travers, their clocks ran out looking for one of their prisoners, how many more rescue missions are there going to be that end with an apology letter to a family?" Q sighed and looked at a wall. "When I was a kid and I had to have a Band-Aid removed, my mother would always tell me that she'd count to three and pull it off. But she always pulled it off on 'two', because I tensed on 'three', expecting the pain. She'd take it off quickly, and then it was done, everything was fine again. That's not how these guys work. They count to three, over and over and over again, and on every single 'three' something happened. And it was never finished.

"They took shifts, James. I was never alone in that room. And I'll be damned if I have to make other people wait to be saved just because I want to rest my fingers."

Bond waited for Q to look at him again, and when he didn't, he gently moved Q's head around by his jaw. Q raised his eyes, meeting James's eyes with a stubborn look, challenging him to disagree, but loving his at the same time.

"We'll find them, Q. Together we're going to find them."

Half an hour later the door opened again and M walked in, followed by Eve and Tanner. Eve pushed past the other two and hugged Q, whispering a quick "Welcome back," in Q's ear. Q patted her on the back awkwardly until she let go. M nodded towards the door and she left quietly, leaving a package on a table.

Tanner stepped forward.

"Glad to have you with us again, Q."

"Tanner! Don't tell me they pulled you out of Portugal for this?"

Tanner shrugged, and gave Q a brief smile. "They didn't have to beg, Quartermaster."

"How are you feeling?" M asked, as he sat down in a chair and pulled out a notebook and a pen. Tanner did the same.

"Not too bad, sir, I appreciate you asking. How's R coping?"

"She's doing well, but we've been struggling without you."

"I intend on getting back as soon as they let me stand."

M looked at Bond behind Q's back, and then returned his gaze back to Q.

"Good, we need you. Now, I have a few things to ask. This isn't a psych test, that'll come later, but I need to know if you have any information we don't. Did you overhear anything that might be of use?"

Q shook his head.

"I'm sorry, M, but they were super careful around me. When they let slip about the tunnels and the helicopter at the end, I was shocked. And the fact that they left the camera proved their terror of the thought of being caught."

"Did you hear anything about this boss of theirs?"

"Only the occasional relayed order, and even then all of them were about what to do with me next. There was never a name, they just called them 'the Boss'. I don't know if even they knew the name."

M made a few notes on the page.

"Right, and the men? What can you tell me about them?"

"Two of them were assigned to me. I didn't see anyone else until you invaded the building on the island. The two took 13-hour shifts, I'm guessing. I couldn't keep track of the time, so I'm going by how often they ate. The first man, Stuart, who was the one who broke into our apartment," Q shot a glance at James, who had snapped his teeth together. "Stuart was the most… enthusiastic. The other one seemed to stick to orders pretty closely, but Stuart didn't. He had an anger issue, which I think stemmed from the fact that he decided he couldn't get into my laptop, which..." Q trailed off hopefully, looking at the package on the table. M picked it up and drew out two laptops and a pile of paperwork. He handed one of the laptops to Q. Bond thought that Q might actually hug it, but instead he just stroked his fingers lovingly down one of the sides and smiled. Q was about to open it when Bond took it from him and put it on the bedside table.

"Later."

Q pouted a little, but turned his attention back to an expectant M, and an amused Tanner.

"So, there were only those two?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I can't answer any more of your questions."

M reached towards the other laptop and the paperwork on the table.

"Don't worry, Q, there are plenty of other uses for you. This is Stuart's laptop, and the notes of the whole case so far, including their base we… decommissioned in the Mediterranean." He handed the papers to Q who flicked through them.

"It also includes the transcript from an interview we conducted with your second man, whose name is, unimaginatively, Aaron."

Q looked sharply at M, and he felt Bond shift in response on the other side of the bed.

"He's here? He's in the building!"

The heart monitor stepped up, just enough to be noticed. M returned Q's gaze with calm authority.

"Under lock and key, and guard and gun. He's not going anywhere, Q. And it's also not like you're completely unprotected, either."

But Q wouldn't hear it.

"I was in our apartment, M! Our apartment! Do you understand how protected it is?!"

Bond stood and stepped towards the bed.

"Q," he began, but Q ignored him.

"Do you understand that Stuart was as smart as me? That he came so close to breaking into my laptop? For God's sake, M! If the man lay off me for a few hours and actually focused on the equipment itself, it probably would've only taken him a couple of days! You're lucky he was just as sadistic as he was determined!"

A nurse came bustling in, already asking M and Tanner politely, but firmly, to leave. Q waved her off, and she stormed back through the door, presumably to fetch her superior.

Bond tried to speak again, but this time Tanner cut him off.

"Q, no one can break out of there."

Q all but shouted over the top of him.

"Silva did! These guys had one genius, why can't they have more?"

"Quartermaster, that's enough." M's voice cut through the air.

"003 and 009 are guarding Aaron, do you not trust in their abilities?" When Q didn't answer, M asked again. "You've been in their ear on enough missions, and they were on the one to find you. They volunteered to find you. 003 was the one who made sure that you could actually move without piercing a lung, so answer me, Q. Do you trust them?"

Q's heart-rate slowly dropped back to normal.

"Of course, M. I apologise."

M nodded and stood up, motioning towards the second laptop.

"You want to know who else is out there? Break into that, maybe they have personnel files stashed somewhere. I'll be back down after your tests tomorrow. Sleep well and heal, Q. We can't have you working at less than 100%."

Tanner gave him a reassuring smile and followed M out the door.

Q gave a long sigh, and James rubbed his hand kindly, sitting back down. Q opened up his laptop and logged on quickly.

"Oh God…"

"What is it?" Bond asked.

"I have over four thousand emails."


	14. Chapter 14

"Have a seat, Quartermaster."

It had been two days since Q was allowed to eat food, and they finally decided that he could cope with the psych analysis. Bond wasn't happy because M wouldn't allow him in the room with Q, saying that it would distract him. Q sat back in the chair, and looked briefly at the one-way glass, where he knew Bond and M were watching. What he didn't know was that Bond and M were joined by Eve, Tanner, R, and 003 – four other people who had invested a large amount of time since Q woke up to get him back on his feet.

"How are you feeling?" The analyst asked.

"A lot better now that I can eat by myself," Q answered, giving the woman a smile. He knew there was no point in fighting them, as Bond often did. It just kept you out of the workplace longer.

"I'm glad. Now, Q, today we're going to go through some simple word association, and also have a chat. What would you like to do first?"

"Word association," Q said immediately. If he talked first, then his word association could very well get tense, and that wouldn't show positively on his report. He knew that this person would have read his file, which now included the notes from his psychologist sessions, and she would probably pick words that were meant to remind him of his time as a captive. It didn't escape his notice that this was the first psych test he'd done since he and Bond moved in together, as well. At Bond's post-mission tests they usually tried to bait him with things to do with Q, making sure the two could separate work and their home life. He had to remain calm. The woman nodded and flicked through a couple of pages of Q's file, picking up a pen.

"Right, let's get started. Paper?"

"Pen."

"Power?"

"Cord."

"Concrete?"

"Grey."

"Light?"

"Dark."

"Rescue?"

"Mission."

"7?"

Q went off on a stream of numbers, relaying a code perfectly. After thirty seconds the analyst held up her hand, and Q stopped.

"What was that?"

"A computer code."

"What's the code for?"

"The layout of a Word document."

She looked at Q, wondering if he was lying. Behind the screen M looked at R. R didn't need to wait for the question.

"He's telling the truth, that's the code for Microsoft."

Back in the room, the woman made a note on her papers, and then continued.

"Home?"

"Sleep."

"Safe?"

"Vault."

"Safety."

"Conditional."

"Protect?"

"Unconditional."

"Protector?"

"Patronus."

"Sorry?"

"Apologise."

"No, that wasn't a word, that was a question. Did you say patronus?"

"It's from Harry Potter, it's the ultimate protection spell, it protects the user from Dementors."

"I know. I was just… clarifying."

"Ok then," said Q, with another look at the glass.

"We'll just do a few more, and then we'll move on. Bond?"

"James."

"James?"

"Bond."

"Partner?"

"James Bond."

"Q, I really don't think you're taking this seriously."

Bond stared at Q, trying to get him to hear his thoughts. "Don't sass her, don't get defensive. Come on, Q."

"Why would you say that?"

The analyst sat back in her chair and put the pen and paper down.

"When we ask these questions, we're not trying to pry in your personal life, we just want to know if you're a security threat, and if you can withstand the pressure of someone else asking these questions, on not so friendly terms."

"I haven't proved that already?"

"Quartermaster…"

'No, I'm sorry, listen to me."

Behind the glass M raised his eyebrows and Bond tried his hardest to not start banging his head against the wall. This could go badly…

"Years before 007 and I started a relationship, I was his Quartermaster, and first and foremost, that's my role here. We have always behaved strictly professional at work, and this will continue as normal. We have not disrupted any jobs, and we've not had any complaints from anyone within MI6. I was in his earpiece as his minder, and I've heard him introduce himself hundreds of times as 'Bond, James Bond.' So you'll forgive me if that's what I immediately think of when someone says his name. The Quartermaster has a partnership with all the double 0 agents. They have to. And as soon as they're in the field, or getting their equipment, they're on completely equal footing. And I resent the implication that I play favourites when other people's lives are involved."

"Well, I guess we've moved onto the discussion section then. Do you dream about your time as a hostage?"

"I wasn't a hostage."

"Q…"

"I wasn't, though! It wasn't a hostage situation, there was no ransom, no ultimatum. I was a captive, I was a prisoner. I wasn't a hostage."

"Do you dream about your time as a prisoner?"

"Of course. But that's the body's way of coping with psychological stress. The psychologist said that this would happen less frequently when there's no physical reminders of my time on Markusi."

"When you wake up, do you think you're still in the cell?"

"Sometimes, for a few seconds, yes."

"And what brings you back to the present?"

Bond's arms… His lips…. His hands…

"As soon as I see something familiar, I'm fine."

"Since you're still sleeping in Medical, what counts as something familiar?"

"My laptop, or the paperwork, or other work I'm doing at the moment. The bed's usually a good give-away, Bond if he's there. There's a light in the corridor outside my room that flickers slightly, a whole range of things."

"Do you still feel like you're being tortured? Like you're back in that room and it's all happening again?"

"Sometimes when I wake up, but as soon as something familiar happens, I know where I am and that I'm in London, in Medical." In Bond's arms.

"Alright. One last test. We need to check that you can still deal with pain, without it triggering a fight-or-flight response. I know that you've done a few of these with the psychologist, and you've done well. But because you had electric shocks used as part of your torture, we need to know that you can cope with static electricity."

Q smiled again, although Bond thought it was a little tight.

"You need to know I won't fire a gun if I get shocked by the microwave."

"You've got the right idea." The analyst reached beneath the desk and pulled out a small metal box. "This runs an extremely low-level current of electricity, the exact same as you would find on a piece of metal that has had time to build up static. All you need to do is touch it with your finger, and you'll receive the shock. When you're ready, Quartermaster."

Q immediately reached for the box, pressing three fingers onto the flat surface. He held them there for five seconds and felt the shocks move through him: One… Two… Three. After the third shock he let go and wriggled his fingers to get rid of the tingling remnants of the electricity. The analyst eyed him, and he smiled reassuringly.

"Excellent, Quartermaster. You're free to leave."

Q thanked her and stood up, taking his time to stretch and then walked out the door, where Bond, M, R, 003, Eve, and Tanner were waiting.

"I didn't know I had an audience," Q said jokingly.

"Well done, Q," M said. "I'll come down this evening and you can show me what you've been working on, OK?"

"Thanks, M, that'll be good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm starving, and I really need a shower."

With a quick wave goodbye, Q quickly walked back to Medical. He told the nurses that he would be in his ensuite, so they wouldn't disturb him, and closed the door to the bathroom. As soon as it shut he collapsed on the tiled floor, tremors ripping through his body, his hand burning where he'd been shocked. He gasped for breath, causing his ribs to start aching again, before he crawled over to the toilet and was sick, throwing up all the food from the day before. When he was done there was a sheen of sweat covering his body, and he felt almost as weak as when he'd woken up the first time. After what seemed like hours he was able to drag himself into the shower and he stood underneath the cool water for a long while.

When he finally began feeling more like himself he turned off the water and stepped back into his clothes. He swallowed a glass of water and took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door, letting himself back into his room.

There was just one thing he hadn't counted on.

Bond. Who was sitting in his chair next to the bed, watching him closely.


	15. Chapter 15

"Hey Q."

Q stopped in the doorway, trying to figure out how long Bond had been there, how much he'd heard…

"You had a shower this morning."

This was not what Q was expecting.

"Sorry?"

"You've already had a shower today."

"So? I had another one."

Bond raised his eyebrows.

"James, really? You're using your 'serious tone' on me because I had two showers in one day?"

"No, I'm using my serious tone on you because you took triple the amount of shocks you were meant to, didn't stop to talk to M about your work, practically ignored R even though you're still banned from Q-Unit, and walked straight back into Medical where you get harassed by nurses, all to have a second shower."

Q looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, tensed to bolt and Bond could see his thoughts trying to think of an excuse for his behaviour. Bond slowly got up and made his way over to Q, making no sudden movements and keeping eye contact. He enveloped Q's wiry frame in his arms and after a moment, he felt the tension ease out from Q's body and he sagged against Bond's chest. Bond caught him and lifted him up, before walking over to the chair and sitting down with Q curled in his lap.

"It was like…" Q whispered after a minute. "It was like they were toying with me. They would make everything hurt, so much. And then they would shock me, and for a second, just a second, the pain would stop, and I could hear my heartbeat stop and I would float, and then the next shock would come, and my heart was beating out of my ribs and I would wake up and they would still be in the room. They would always be in the room."

Bond held him closer, leaning his head into Q's hair, trying to have as little space between them as possible.

"I thought about you, James. All the time. I knew you'd come. And that was the only thing, the only thing that kept me going. Just the thought of seeing you again. Well… That and how pissed you'd be at me if you'd found me and I was dead."

"Don't say that, Q. You're alive. You're here and you're alive, and you didn't give them anything. They seriously underestimated you, and they paid for it."

Q looked up and pressed his lips to Bond's, who rubbed small circles on his back in return.

"Not all of them, James. Not yet."

Q uncurled himself and stood up, offering Bond his hand. They walked to the other side of the room, which had a table that both laptops – Q's and Stuart's – were on, joined together by a few cords. "I've been working through Stuart's computer, it's taking forever. He really was a genius, everything is maintained under a self-destructive, ever-changing safeguard."

"Self-destructive?" Bond asked, concerned.

"It's not a bomb. It's a tiny, tiny explosive planted in the main data core. It'll only melt the laptop, it isn't a threat to anyone, even me."

Bond nodded, satisfied.

"Where have you got to?"

"Not as far as I'd like. But I've only been working on it for a few hours…" Q tapped away absent-mindedly and Bond could feel him slipping out of the conversation, putting his whole focus into the task at hand.

"A few hours? You've had the laptop for two days."

"Hmm?" Q shook himself out of his reverie and back into the room.

"M gave the laptop to you two days ago."

"I know, but there was something more important I had to do first."

"What's more important than this? Apart from you healing, and I'm still unconvinced that you working is a good idea."

Q ignored the second comment.

"James, please. I'm going to be out of here in a week, maybe less, and we'll both properly move back into our apartment. But you've been going back and forth getting clothes and things already."

"So?" Bond, said for once, looked completely lost.

"So I've been upgrading our security systems for the past two days. I need to make sure we'll be safe there." Q looked up from the computer, straight into Bond's eyes, and Bond could see a steely quality mist over his pupils. Bond knew that look. It was Q's determined look. Bond had never seen something remain the same when Q had that look. No matter what happened, Q would get his way. "I want to get this out of the way, James. I wasn't lying back in the psych room, I don't play favourites when you're in the field. I protect all of you as best as I can. But here, at home, nothing is more important to me than your safety." Q kept his eyes locked on Bond's. "I know it's different, because you, at least, would have woken up as soon as they stepped into the damn room, but I don't care. I don't care about your training or about how good you are. I just care about you, and no-one's going to take you away from me in our own home. Do you understand?"

It was so strange for Bond to see such a beautiful mix between Q and the Quartermaster. All of Q's passion and love were plain on his face, but the strength and authority from the Quartermaster equalled it. It wasn't a challenge, it was an order. Bond straightened his shoulders and stood tall.

"Do you need any more of my DNA?"

"Not your DNA, but that does remind me…" Q pulled out the connecting cables from the laptops and scooped up a bag beneath the table, taking out a strange hollow box with spikes on one end that he plugged into the wall, and into his laptop. It lit up red and a new program flashed onto the screen.

"Put your right hand over the box, resting your fingers between the spikes."

Bond did so, and then repeated the action with his left.

"Perfect."

Q turned off the device and put it back in the bag, before saving the data onto his laptop.

"What did you do?" Bond said, trying to look over Q's shoulder at the screen.

"It's a digital vein print." Q said, stepping sideways and showing Bond the screen. On it there were two hands, Bond's hands, with their vein patterns showing up in red and blue. "Veins in the hands are like fingerprints and eyes, everyone's is unique. But a fingerprint, or even an eye scan, can easily be duplicated or hacked. Veins are much more difficult. Put that with the coding I'm putting over the top of them, and it's virtually impossible to break in, unless they have your hand, and if they do, then we've got bigger problems then someone breaking into our house again. But even then, I've taken precautions."

Bond stepped forward and kissed Q appreciatively.

"I suppose you've done the same for yourself already?"

"Of course."

"And the precautions?"

"If it's AM, use your left hand to open the door. If it's PM, use your right. If you ever get these two mixed up, I strongly suggest you duck."

"Bullet?"

"Oh no, that's far too kind. The intruder will be paralysed by a Taser-like pulse. They won't be able to move for 12 hours, and a red alert will be sent to both our phones, as well as Eve's, my laptop, Q-Unit, and M's computer. A similar warning will be sent if someone tries to break in the normal way. I've fitted the pulses to every window as well, and they'll activate if they're ever opened from the outside."

"Q, we live on the twelfth floor."

"That's just bad luck for the intruder then, isn't it?"

"Won't it look a little suspicious to have that box by our front door?"

"That's what I've been working on. I've managed to put the system into a spherical shape, and it has virtually no indentation where the fingers need to go. We can easily fix it to the door, and it'll look exactly like-"

"A door handle. Q, I don't know when the last time I said this to you was, but you're a bloody genius."

Q smiled at his lover and his eyes lit up playfully.

"I know."

After dinner, which Q gulped down eagerly, M knocked on the door and Q looked up from the laptops he was typing on, and Bond looked up from the book he was reading.

"Alright Q, I've got five minutes. Give me a run-down on what you've got so far."

"Right," said Q, sliding his chair over so M could sit next to him. "He's got a tough system, and I'm still disabling the codes, but I've managed to pick up a few of the weapons trades they've done, including names, dates, locations, and content. Which is great, but it means that they're much more interested in protecting themselves, rather than their business partners."

"That's a massive start. Do you have a list?"

Q handed a sealed envelope to M, who stood up and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

"Thank you, Q."

"I'll have more tomorrow evening, I just need to figure out the configuration of the private files, and then I can link in the coding that I've already deconstructed. These pieces of information should allow me access to the workings of the original template through the document format, which in turn will-"

Bond had already started to laugh as M held up his hand.

"Please, just… Just do it."

"On it, sir."

M walked to the door, before turning around.

"Although… Tomorrow's going to be a bit busy for you two."

Both Q and Bond looked shocked.

"Why, sir?" Bond asked.

"We're kicking you out of Medical. You've been doing well, Q, and the nurses are grudgingly trusting Bond to continue ensuring that you eat. Before you leave though, please stop in to see Eve, who has some paperwork for you. Good evening, Q. 007."

The door shut behind him and the room was quiet for a second before they both jumped out of their chairs and ran towards each other.

"You get to come home!" Bond said, as he picked Q up and swung him around.

"You get to take me home!" Q said, equally enthusiastic, laughing as Bond pulled him in for a kiss, which he fully returned. But unlike the previous kisses it deepened and Q only began realising the situation when he and Bond had collapsed onto the hospital bed.

"Bond," he said, trying to sound like he was in charge.

"What?" Bond whispered against his neck.

"Bond, not that I'm complaining in any way…"

"Then be quiet." He sucked at Q's collarbone, leaving him gasping. "Or be loud, that's fine, too."

"But I really don't know how many cameras are in this room."

"Yes you do."

"Ok, I do, and it's definitely more than none." Q forced his hands away from Bond's body.

"I don't care."

"I do." Q sat up, pulling Bond with him. "Not at work, dearest."

Bond looked at Q for a long moment, and Q could see emotions flitting through his eyes: frustration, understanding, forced patience, and it finally settled on hopeful.

"I get to take you home tomorrow."

"Yes you do, my gorgeous agent." Q said, lightly kissing Bond once more before he shuffled off the bed. "Yes you do."


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning Q was out of bed, showered, dressed, and packed by 7:00. Bond was right behind him. As Q was still banned from Q-Unit, he went to Eve's desk while Bond fetched the last bits of clothing from Q's office. Eve gave Q a huge smile as she saw him walk in the door.

"Q! You don't know how glad I am to see you going home!"

Q smiled back.

"It'll be nice to sleep in my own bed again."

Eve's smile turned into a smirk.

"Oh, I bet it will."

Q could feel the blush creep into his cheeks and highlight the tips of his ears. He needed to change the subject.

"M said you had some homework for me?"

Eve opened a drawer and handed Q a heavy file.

"Have fun with that. You've got a month's worth of catching up to do."

Q just grinned and held the paperwork protectively against his chest.

"I can't wait to get started!"

"There's something really worrying about you workaholics…"

"Now, now, Eve, don't harass the Quartermaster. That's my job." Bond stepped through the door, holding a bag in one hand. "You ready to go?"

Q nodded and said goodbye to Eve, who shared a wink with Bond as the two walked out. Bond put a hand on Q's back, guiding him through the corridors towards the car park.

"Ready to go home?"

"You bet."

Twenty minutes later, Q stood over the kettle, holding onto his empty mug.

"Watched pots never boil," Bond said from the couch, flicking through the TV channels.

"Anything will boil when its temperature is being raised to 100 degrees, James, watched or not."

James chuckled and turned his attention back to the remote. After another minute, the kettle 'dinged' and Q poured himself a cup of tea, inhaling the familiar and comforting smell of his Earl Grey. He cupped his hands around the warm mug and settled onto the couch next to Bond, who moved over so Q could lie back, resting on his chest. Bond crossed his arms over Q's stomach and rested his chin on Q's head.

"Can I just say how very impressed I am that you've not opened the file from M yet?" Bond said, kissing Q's hair. There was a moment's silence and Bond could see Q trying to think of how to say something. "You've read it already, haven't you?"

"When you were in the shower," Q admitted, trying his hardest to sound guilty, and failing miserably. Bond just laughed.

"Anything interesting?"

"Nothing you wouldn't already know. 004 got herself into a right mess in Siberia, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but nothing R couldn't figure out."

"And 001 in the Atlantic?"

"No one could predict that the submarine was going to sink."

Q sighed.

"I know, I just wish it didn't come out of my budget."

Gently, Bond took the tea out of Q's hands and put it on the table.

"Q," he started, seriously. "You've been in the house for over 3 hours, and we're talking about your budget?"

Q twisted around, until he was face-to-face with Bond.

"I'm sorry, 007, but I thought you were always intrigued by my financial problems." Q fluttered his eyelashes at him innocently.

"And I am, you know that. But you see, Q," Bond said, as he gently wrapped his arms around Q and moved him onto his lap, "I can care about many things at one time. And although I do so love hearing you talk about how costly we agents are, there are a few things that keep distracting me."

Q wriggled against Bond's lap and slid his arms around Bond's neck.

"What on Earth could be more important than my economic state?"

"If you don't start kissing me, I'm going to show you a new economic state, Q."

Q lightly brushed his lips to Bond's before pulling back and cocking his head to the side.

"That doesn't make sense and you know it, James."

Bond tried to pull Q back in, but Q resisted and smiled wickedly.

"Oh, Q, no, please. Not now. Can we please just have sex without games? It's been over a month!"

Q slowly slid off Bond, easing his fingers from his shoulders, down to his toes. When he finally broke the contact, Bond groaned. Q ignored him and picked up his tea.

"Ok, tell me. What did I do wrong?"

Q sipped his tea. "Now now, James, have I ever done this as punishment for something?"

"Yes," Bond answered immediately.

"Do you feel like you're in trouble right now?"

"No… I just feel like I'm being punished."

Q bought his mug to his lips and slowly ran his tongue around the rim, drinking in Bond's hungry expression. Q could see his fingers twitching.

"Do you, James?"

Bond all but growled at him, crawling forward across the couch.

"Q…" But he stopped moving as soon as he saw Q's face, which had been hiding behind the mug. It looked sad and scared, a look Bond hadn't seen for a very long time. He sat, instantly cutting out of his prowling attack-mode, and reached for Q's arm. "Q, what's wrong?"

Q put his mug down, and continued to look at it as he spoke.

"James… I, I just…"

Bond scooted over and cupped Q's face with his hands, unsuccessfully trying to get Q to make eye-contact. "Q, talk to me, what's going on?"

"I want to do this, I really do, James, but…" Q took a deep breath. "But, would you mind if I was… more in control today? I just don't want to, to feel… trapped or…" He exhaled, his small frame shuddering, and finally looked at Bond, cringing.

"Oh, Q, of course. Of course! That's all you need to say, love. Are you OK, do you want to just watch TV for a while? Or we could go out and get lunch?"

Q finally looked up and smiled at his partner, leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss.

"How about I finish my tea, then we'll have lunch, then we'll start again?"

Bond kissed him back, and ran his hand through Q's hair.

"That sounds perfect."

"Did I ever tell you the story about the Greenland mission, and I had to hide as a snowman?" Bond asked, as he sprawled across the couch. They had just finished lunch and Q was giving him a foot massage, for which Bond was eternally grateful.

"No," Q said, already laughing.

"Well, it was five years ago, and before the mission 003 and I had made a bet as to who could come up with the strangest method of camouflage. There was only one rule, and that was that it had to be justifiable to the mission. We were returning from a stake-out in Greenland in the middle of a blizzard and we were told that our position had been compromised from the base's sensor cameras, and we had to hide. We were both pretty shocked, because we thought the snow would cover us, but apparently not. 003 jumped into the back of a truck whose engine had frozen over, but he accidently hit a button on the inside and the back door came crashing down before I could get in. It was locked and I had under five minutes to find somewhere to hide. So I ran to a huge snowdrift and piled it on top of me, building a snowman around me. The guards came and looked around for a while, and then decided that the blizzard had tricked the cameras. 003 managed to break out through the front of the truck, but he had to almost carry me to the pick-up point. I had really bad hypothermia and could barely move. I was in Medical for a week before my body temperature was back to normal…" Bond trailed off, remembering the searing cold.

"What was the prize for winning?"

Bond laughed.

"Believe it or not, I didn't win. A couple of missions down the track 003 managed to take cover in a garden as a very elaborate sculpture. He had to stay completely still for hours. It was hilarious."

"That doesn't sound that bad…"

"He was naked."

Bond felt Q's body shake with laughter, and it moved the couch beneath them. Bond joined in too, remembering the mission debrief afterwards with M…

"I'll have to remember to use that as leverage if he destroys another gun," Q said, his mind already whirring with the possibilities.

"You are lethal, my dearest Q."

Without warning, Q tugged on Bond's foot, bringing his body crashing onto his. Bond had half a second to stop his weight from completely crushing Q before Q's lips were on him, possessing his mouth. Bond kissed him back, but restrained himself from taking the lead, letting Q be in complete control of every movement. Q wrapped his legs around Bond's torso and nudged his spine with his heel. Understanding, Bond locked his hands behind Q's back and stood up, resting Q on his hips, without breaking the kiss.

Bond walked them towards the bedroom, letting himself fall backwards onto the bed, so Q was on top of him. Q kissed his mouth once more, before moving his way down Bond's neck, leaving a trail of stinging hickeys that will get Bond in trouble when he goes back to HQ; agents were not meant to be marked.

Q pulled at Bond's shirt, and Bond obediently raised his shoulders, letting Q slide the fabric off. Q hummed appreciatively at Bond's chest, and continued his line of kisses south. Bond had his right hand in Q's hair, and used the other to pull Q's shirt off as well. He felt Q tense as his shirt hit the ground, breathing on Bond's skin instead of kissing it. Bond could understand, Q hadn't had his scars grafted yet, and his torso was a mass of ridges, outlined by white scar tissue. Slowly, Bond pulled Q up towards him and rolled them over, kissing Q's lips before looking into his eyes.

"You're beautiful, Q."

Bond then moved his way down Q's body, from the scar at his hairline, down his neck and all over his stomach, kissing the unnatural lines, kissing away Q's doubts. After a minute Q relaxed again, and as Bond's tongue swirled across his bellybutton, he gasped and arched his back, into Bond's mouth.

"James." Just that murmur sent Bond's blood racing. Q's hands were in his hair, pulling him back up so he could kiss him properly. They rolled over again, and hands fumbled at belts, wishing they could be in four places at once.

Q's phone started ringing.

Bond can see Q falter at the sound, his eyes automatically looking at his mobile, then back at his lover beneath him. There was a long moment where neither of them talked, the shrill call demanding Q's attention. Bond relaxed first, and let his hands drop to the bed beside him.

"Go."

He could see Q's expression, torn between wanting to run to the phone, and wanting to run his hands down even lower. Bond chuckled.

"Go on, Q. You haven't been at work for over a month, it's OK."

Q leant down and kissed him reverently, whispering a thank you, before he bounded off the bed and lunged for the phone. As he answered it, Bond dressed himself, and placed Q's shirt beside him. Q glanced at him gratefully, his eyes shining with excitement. Bond walked through the apartment and put his shoes back on, grabbing his car keys, opening the door to let Q out first. Q all but ran down the stairs.

Before Q got out of the car at MI6, he leant across and kissed Bond thoroughly.

"Thank you so much, I will one hundred percent make it up to you when I get home."

"I know you will." Bond waved a dismissing hand at him. "Go save the world."

Q laughed and jumped out of the car, yelling a quick 'I love you!' behind him. Bond watched him go, smiling. He'd missed seeing Q this happy. His phone buzzed, and he looked at a new text.

"Patience, 007? I never knew you had it in you! – Moneypenny."

Bond was about to shoot off a quick reply when another text came in. It was from Q, and detailed exactly how he was planning on making it up to Bond later that evening, making Bond's stomach curl in anticipation. He then returned to the text from Eve.

"Moneypenny, some things are worth waiting for."


	17. Chapter 17

The next day Bond joined Q at work, once again filling out his paperwork in the corner of Q-Unit, and keeping an eye on Q at the same time. The Quartermaster was now back in his usual position, in front of the big screen at the front of the room, quietly directing minions and agents alike. Bond made sure that Q permanently had a steaming cup of Earl Grey on his desk, and had alarms set three times during the day for a ten-minute food break. Q had argued when the first one went off, but (expecting this) Bond had organised for one of the nurses from medical to walk in and order Q to do as Bond says, otherwise he'd be sent home, and not called for a fortnight. Grumbling, Q had obliged, which was why he was sitting in his office with his feet in Bond's lap, at 12:00, chewing an apple.

"So, what's been going on?" Bond asked. Although he'd been in the office all day, he'd tuned out the conversations around him, focusing completely on Q.

"We're still trying to trace the organisation. I'm slowly getting through Stuart's laptop, but even what it's coming up with isn't exactly helping. I think it's sold out all of their contacts, but not much to do with the actual targets." Q's brows furrowed. "I hate feeling useless."

Bond rubbed Q's leg.

"You're not useless. There'll be something on the laptop, there has to be. And you'll find it."

Q smiled at Bond, ever grateful for his unwavering belief in him and his abilities, and leaned in slowly, just grazing Bond's lips with his own. At that moment the door burst open and R rushed in.

"Sir! 008's gotten himself arrested!"

Q jumped away from Bond and stood up, smoothing down his cardigan.

"Again? Who was it this time?"

"The Russian police."

"R, please tell me he wasn't-"

"He was right in the middle of the Kremlin when they found him."

"And had he-"

"He had the USB, but they won't be able to access it for another 12 hours."

Q threw the apple core into the bin.

"Why not?"

"Well… He swallowed it, sir."

"Shit."

R rushed back out of the office, yelling for someone to get the PM on the phone. Q grabbed his mobile from his pocket and started dialling M's number.

"James? If 008 isn't out of police custody by the time your next alarm goes off, am I exempt from resting?"

Bond grinned.

"Not a chance."

Q sighed.

"How long do I have?"

"Three hours, Quartermaster."

Q looked at his watch and pressed the 'call' button on his phone.

"Well, I'm going to have to work fast, aren't I?" He threw Bond a wink as he started walking to the door. "M, it's Q. You're not going to believe the situation 008's gotten himself into…"

Bond lay back on the couch, letting his eyes slide shut. Three hours… He was still tired from Q's ministrations last night, a nap wouldn't go amiss, and Q's couch was so comfortable…

"007!" The Quartermaster's voice filled the whole of Q-Unit, which fell silent in less than a second. They knew that tone of voice far too well.

"Or not…" Bond muttered to himself as he leapt off the couch and hurried to Q's side.


End file.
